Causa Mortis
by Nina La Vough
Summary: Malden is dead, his driver is missing and Jordan just can't stay out of it.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All characters are property of Tim Kring, NBC, and Tailwind Productions.

Nina is being written by jmkw, MADAMBETH, and jordangirl

"Drop the gun Max..."

"I said drop it..."

I stood there waiting for him; I couldn't believe this has all led to...this. Instead of chasing my tail all day, I should have home contemplating whether to do a load of whites or a load of darks. But no; I stood there holding a gun on a man whom I thought I admired. And he wasn't listening to me. This was not happening. Hallelujah, I thought as he began to lower the gun.

Then, suddenly out of the corner of my eye I saw something flash. There was a quick burst of pain at the back of my head and then the dizziness. Before I knew it I was being shoved to the floor. I heard someone running down the hallway though the ringing in my ears.

Max dropped the gun he was holding and rushed to my side.

"Who the hell was that?" I said as I tried to sit up. I put a hand to the back of my head. It was just a glancing blow, just enough to distract me. There was no blood. But I did feel a lump begin to grow.

Max looked out the open door and then back at me. "James."

James, Jordan's brother. Blindsiding me must run in the family.

Through the spots swam before my eyes, I grabbed my gun. Once on my feet I stepped out to the hallway knowing full well it will be empty. I rubbed the back of my head as I walked back into the apartment. I noticed Jordan's 'Don't Mess with Me' baseball bat lying on the floor at my feet. I would have bet my next pay check the lump on the back of my head was from it.

"Max, you care to tell me what happened here." I said kicking the gun aside. I knelt down to the body and made sure that Malden was dead. "Max this is not good." There were four bullet wounds. How many shots had I heard?

Max didn't seem to hear me as he stepped further into the apartment yelling "Jordan! Jordan, are you here!"

Jordan? Was she here? I stood and looked around the room myself.

There was a muffled thud from behind the room divider at the far end of the room. I leveled my gun and pointed it toward the alcove. "Jordan. Jordan, is that you?" I asked; carefully stepping closer.

Jordan leaned around the corner, grabbing the frame as to not fall down to the floor.

Sweet harmony, she's been hit was the only thing I could think of as I holstered my weapon. I rushed to her side and half carried her to the sofa. Max was there pushing me aside to sit next to her and take her into his arms. I had to put my personal feelings aside. I could panic later. But it was hard as I reached for my cell phone. Jordan sat there and gripped the edge of sofa as if she about to fall off. At least she didn't look like she had been shot. But there was defiantly something wrong with her. I could barely dial the phone because my fingers were shaking so badly. The call connected with dispatch and I reported the situation requesting the paramedics.

"Jordan, what's happened to you?" I asked as I hung up the phone.

"Methylhexital" she said her speech slightly slurred. She sat up straighter and looked over at Malden and asked "Is he dead?"

"Yes" I said. Jordan tried to stand to look at the body. Max put a hand on her leg to keep her seated.

"Methylhexital? Jordan?" Max asked. I wanted to ask the same question. I had heard of the drug but I don't know much about it.

Jordan looked at her father as if she has just noticed him sitting there. "Never take candy from strangers ...that goes for scotch too."

I remembered the glass with the familiar shade of lipstick in Malden's office... I interrupted "...in the drink in his office."

"Yes," she said.

I began thinking My God why? Jordan could be a pain in the ass at times, but why drug her?

Jordan began to babble, "As Coroner I must aver, I thoroughly examined her. And she's not merely dead, but she is sincerely dead" she stopped and looked over at me, her eyes were not focusing.

I felt a wave of disgust hit me as I thought about the captain having drugged her. Jordan must have been quite out of it when Malden brought her home. And yet his driver just sat there in front of the building, like this was an every day occurrence. When I asked him where the captain was he just pointed a finger to the front door of the building and snickered. At the time I thought it was strange but now I wondered how many others Malden had brought to their homes incapacitated.

Max began to scold her. "Damn it Jordan, I told you to stay away from him."

She dropped her head to her shoulder and said. "I had to see him. He has all the answers..."

I ran my fingers roughly through my hair and grimaced when I touched the rapidly growing lump. I needed answers and needed them fast. The first unit would be arriving any second and I needed to know what to do. I tried to get their attention by saying, "We haven't got much time. Somebody had better tell me what happened here. And for the love of God you both better give me the straight story."

Jordan just looked at me and laughed. She swung her head back over to look at her father. "You know, he's nice in that wholesome white bread kind of way." She peeked at me and then wagged a finger in her father's face, "But, he wants to get in my pants."

"Geez, Jordan" Max mumbled.

In a stage whisper, Jordan continued, "You know someday I just might let him." she jabbed her finger in Max's shoulder to punctuate each word.

For a brief second I debated whether to use my powers of invisibility for good or for evil, but instead I cleared my throat to say "Ah... this conversation is getting us no where."

"Depends on where you are sitting cowboy." Jordan said leaning back on the sofa.

Max finally looked up at me as we heard the police sirens in the distance. "Woody, it's not the way it looks..."

Have pushed Jordan's comments aside I said "Great, you tell me why you were standing over the captain holding a gun, because I really would like to hear your version of the story right now. We haven't got much time."

Max looked back to the body. I had begun to think just maybe we could get somewhere when he said "When I got here James was holding a gun on Malden. They were arguing. I knew I had to do something, I tried to grab the gun away from James and it went off." Well, that explains the two shots I heard...but what about the other two I didn't?

"I sure hope you're right, because I'd really like to believe you." I said as I walked over to where I had kicked the gun. Stooping down I looked at the end of the barrel. The gun had defiantly been fired. The barrel was covered with gun powder. I wanted to believe him. I hoped the test results will show that Max was not holding the gun directly. At least it was something.

Jordan pushed her father's limp arm out of the way and struggled to stand. She must have been reading my mind when she said, "Woody, you have to believe him. It's my fault." She took a few wobbly steps over to where the body laid. "He made me take him to James." Jordan's voice began to rise in a panic "James ...Where's James... Woody!"

I stood up and looked at Jordan's beautiful face. Her eyes were dilated almost black and her soft hair was a mass of tangles. Her arms were reaching out to me. How many nights had I gone to sleep picturing her like this? But when I looked at her it only brought up a fresh wave of nausea. I chalk the sick feeling up the blow I took. Why didn't I see this coming? No, why did I ever leave Kewaunee?

I looked away from her face as the sirens stopped in front of the building. I needed more time. Frustrated, I said, "Damn it Jordan, I don't know where he is. He hit me and took off. We'll bring him in. He won't get far."

I cringed seeing Jordan lower her arms. I knew we'd have company at any moment. I tried to calm my voice down. "Jordan... honey... did you see what happened here? I really need to know...now. Please tell me so I can help you."

Jordan just stood there looking like she had just lost her best friend. I couldn't do anything but hold my breath as I saw her mind work. I had a feeling she would to try and make a run for it. After a moment she began to edge toward the open door. "Screw you Woody, just play sheriff and figure it out yourself. I have to go find James."

Before she could get passed me I grabbed her around the upper arm. "Jordan, you're just going to make it harder on yourself."

"Get your hands off me Hoyt." Jordan hissed at me. The whole situation was quickly spiraling totally out of control and I didn't know how to stop it.

Before I could reassure her a pair of uniformed police officers rushed through the open door. I noticed their name tags 'Officer's Smith and Jones' A flashback of the old TV show 'Alias Smith and Jones' came momentarily in my mind. If the circumstances had been different I might have laughed out loud about their names.

Officer Jones walked over at the body lying on the floor and said "Holy shit, is that Captain Malden?"

"Which one of you is Hoyt?" Smith said.

I reluctantly let go of Jordan and reached for my badge. "I'm Hoyt."

"Ma'am, I'm going to need your name?" Officer Smith asked Jordan.

She just rewarded him with an evil eye.

Max spoke up "Cavanaugh, Jordan Cavanaugh. I'm her father Max." At least Max seemed to be willing to cooperate.

Officer Jones walked over toward Max and said "Cavanaugh? Hey, didn't they just issue an APB out on them? Sir, you two are going to have to come with us." A feeling of panic washed over me. When did that happen? The DA sure moved fast. Jordan didn't need to go downtown. She needed to go to the hospital.

Before I knew it Jordan made a run for the door. She was quicker than I thought possible. She made it to the hallway before I had to tackle her against the wall. I pulled her away by wrapping my arm around her waist and drawing her against me.

"Don't do this Jordan. You need to see a doctor."

"I am a doctor."

"It's not what I mean and you know it." I said as I felt her body begin to relax.

"Woody, I have to find him...he's my brother."

"Please just let my take care of James."

"That's what I'm worried about." Jordan began to struggle but apparently the drug in her system made her movements futile. She did land a few good blows to my shins as I guided her bodily back into the apartment.

"Thanks Hoyt" Officer Smith said pulling out a set of handcuffs. I could see the look in his eyes. He knew this was big and he and his partner were going to be front and center.

I looked over at Max and noticed that Officer Jones had already him cuffed. Dumbfounded I asked "Is this necessary?"

Jordan pulled herself away from me. She turned her back to Officer Smith and put her hands in the air. The look on her face said it all. I knew whatever friendship we had was in serious jeopardy.

The last straw happened when Smith began to frisk her. It's all I could do not to jump him. I yelled "She's clean damn it, just...leave her alone." Luckily Smith nodded and just placed the cuffs on Jordan's wrists. I kind of wished he hadn't; because I would love to have taken my frustration out on someone... anyone at that moment.

I barely heard the Miranda Rights being read to Max and Jordan as I watched her face. All around us people seemed to be coming out of the walls. Paramedics were checking the body; Fellow homicide detectives began to comb through the apartment. I didn't doubt for a second that the DA would close in also. I could only stand there in a daze. Jordan had to realize that I was just doing my job. It was the police's job to find James. James killed Malden and most likely killed Jeffers. I reached out and pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and whispered. "I'm not your enemy Jordan. You need to trust me." She only turned her face away as tears began to fall down her cheeks. I felt like the ground had just opened up and swallowed me whole.

"Hey, Hey wait, she needs to get checked out!" I yelled as they led Max and Jordan out the door.

"Sure thing, Hoyt" Jones replied. I knew in the back of my mind that they were going to take her directly to the station. I needed to catch up with them.

I was walking toward the door when a deceptively calm voice calls my name from the hallway. I looked up to see DA Walcott stride into the room. I really don't need her right then.

"I trust you can find your own way down to Interrogation." she stated without preamble.

"Yes ma'am" I said looking out the door.

"Good, because I'll need a statement from you about all of this" She barely looked over at the body of Captain Malden as the homicide unit photographed the scene. "Not that he's a great loss, mind you. In fact I always thought he was a waste of prime office space. But, we have a job to do."

"If it's any consolation I don't think either of them did it." I looked around her at the open door. The thought of cooling my heals downtown has not what I had planned.

"Save your testimony for the interrogation room detective."

It was all I could do not to leave her standing there talking to herself. Then I realized I couldn't help Jordan or Max now. It was too late. It was all in the DA's hands now.

"Yes ma'am"

Walcott then turned and walked out yelling for someone to find the captain's driver. With a deep sigh I followed close behind. I walked down the stairs trying to figure out just what the hell happened this evening. I felt like I had just done two rounds with Tyson and the bell just rang for Round Three. My head hurt like hell, my thoughts were scattered, my heart was breaking, and all I could do was stand there and wait for that final left hook. What if Max had really shot Malden? Where the hell was this James? I knew Jordan and Max would be gone by the time I could get outside. At least I hoped once I got to the station I could make sure Jordan was at the hospital.


	2. Chapter 2

On the way out of the building, I met Garret and Nigel coming in.  I should have known Garret would get the call on this one.  High profile case you want the top guy.  Nigel just looked at me, his eyes full of the questions he was afraid to ask.  Garret grabbed my arm and pulled me to the side of the building.

"Hoyt, what the hell happened here?"

"I don't know, Garret.  I don't know."

"Is. . .?"

"Jordan's alive.  And on her way to the precinct.  Malden drugged her with methylhexital and scotch, so she's pretty out of it."

"My God, she should be going to the hospital, not to interrogation!"

"I know, and if I had any say in the matter that's where she'd be going.  But I'm a witness."

"What?"

"I have to go and make a statement before Walcott has my ass for dinner.  I'll. . .I'll talk to you later, Garret."

And he went up the stairs to join Nigel in collecting what evidence they'd need from the scene.  I went to my car and got in, trying to figure out what to tell them when they questioned me.  The truth, I know.  But what is the truth?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At the precinct's interrogation rooms. . . (three scenes, simultaneous)

Max. . .

Oh God, what has happened?  When did everything spiral out of control?  No need to ask that.  It's easy enough to find the answer.  Garret was right.  When I pulled Jordan into working the cases but provided her no answers about what happened to her mother.  I had my suspicions as to what happened.  But it's more than that.  It's the secrets I've been keeping from her.  I should have. . .  But should have's aren't going to do any of us any good now.

Jordan's eyes as they loaded her into the squad car. . .  As long as I live, I'll never forget that sight.  So full of emotion, even the effects of the methylhexital couldn't mask the pain that was there.  And I don't even know where she is right now.  One of the other rooms, I'm assuming, but who knows.  She should be at the hospital now.  If I'd come across anyone in a state like she was. . .but I'm not a cop anymore.  Now I'm a suspect in a murder.  Again.

I heard the door open and looked up to see District Attorney Renee Walcott enter the room.

"Give me a minute," she said to the officer who had been left in the room with me.  I just looked at her and braced myself for the questions I knew were coming.  "Mr. Cavanaugh, do you care to tell me what happened back there?"

"I don't have to say anything without a lawyer present.  I know my rights."

"Fine.  Suit yourself.  Things could go a lot easier if you'd talk, but. . ."

"Where's my daughter?"

"She's in a room down the hall."

"She should be in a hospital.  That bastard gave her methylhexital in scotch."

"So you say."

I was about to open my mouth and say something when the door opened and Eddie Winslow came in with one of their lab techs.  They had some test results.  Renee looked them over and turned to the officer.  "And you're sure that she's the one who was in the office?"

"Yes ma'am.  The officer at the desk specifically remembered her coming in and leaving with him.  Malden said she was sick and he was taking her home.  It's all in the record at the desk.  And the glass tests positive for methylhexital.  Actually, several of the glasses were coated with it.  And the prints on the glass match hers."

"And she's definitely under the influence of something.  It's been a while since I looked up specifics on that particular drug, but in the family combined with scotch, her actions do seem consistent."  Eddie looked at me as if to say, "I'm doing everything I can to help her."  I tried to muster a smile as I nodded at him.

"Alright.  Take her to Boston University Medical Center.  And keep an eye on her.  Just like any. . ."

"I won't leave her side.  I promise you."  I think the last part was as much for me as the first part was for Walcott.  Eddie was an alright guy when it came down to it, only doing what he had to do.

The thought crossed my mind that it could have been a set up, but I wasn't convinced that the D.A. was that good of an actress.  And I didn't think Eddie would go along with any kind of charade to make me talk. . .at least not since we'd worked things out and I'd forgiven him for what he did.  I looked up at Walcott. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet.  I'm not finished with you.  What can you tell me about Jeffers' murder."

"Nothing.  I swear to you I don't know anything about it.  If you look, I think that you'll find that I was in custody as a suspect in my wife's murder when he went missing."  She obviously hadn't finished going through my file because she immediately went back into the folder.  I saw her pause over something, then she closed the folder and looked at me.

"You're right.  I apologize for not having my facts straight.  But I'm a little confused as to how your gun ended up in the trunk of that car along with Jeffers' body."

"I had a gun that disappeared from my house that I reported missing as soon as I got to work on September 18.  Check the records."  She looked towards the glass that separated the interrogation room from the viewing room.  I supposed she was sending someone to do just that.

"Fine.  We'll look into it.  What about the prints we found on the gun?"

"Prints?"

"We found prints that don't seem to match any prints on file.  Any idea how that could have happened?"

I felt sick to my stomach.  I really had believed the gun was missing.  But now that I knew that James really had visited Emily the night before she died. . .  "Have you run them against the phantom print from my wife's murder scene?"

"The phantom print from. . .?"  And she was back in her files.  In a moment she produced two films of prints, one from some file she had with her and one from the Jeffers' file which had grown considerably in the past day and a half.  She passed them over each other and it was obvious to anyone with sight that they matched.  "And you're going to tell me that you have no idea how he got the gun?"

"I always believed it had disappeared.  That's why I reported it missing.  When I got home late on the night of September 17, Emily was upset.  She wouldn't tell me why.  I knew she hadn't felt safe for a while, but she was sick. . .she had psychological problems.  To try and make her feel better, I went to check the locked drawer where I kept the gun.  It wasn't there.  I searched everywhere for it, and asked Emily about it, but she swore to me that she knew nothing about it.  Now. . .  I know he went to visit her that night."

"Who?  Who went to visit your wife."

"James."

"Who is James?"

"He's. . .Emily and Malden's son."

"What?"

"She had an affair.  The child was born, and she let me believe that he was mine."

"And yet he didn't live with you."

"I. . .I came in from work one night and found her holding him under the water in the bathtub.  I pulled him from her hands and I panicked.  I didn't know what to do, but I knew it wasn't safe for him.  I. . .I gave him to a family I'd worked with the year before.  A couple whose son had been kidnapped and we later found the body.  They raised him as their own."

"And you never went back for him?"

"I couldn't tear him away from the happy family I saw whenever I went to try and take him home.  They were so happy together. . ."

"Alright.  We'll deal with that later.  So he went to visit your wife the night before she died?"

"I wasn't sure if I should believe her or not when she said he'd been there.  She. . .Emily wasn't always the most stable person.  But I've been in contact with him recently and he confirmed that he went to the house to visit her.  I can only assume that she gave him the gun."

"You do realize how hard this is going to be for you to prove.  How do we know that he even exists."

"At my bar, the Pogue Mahone.  On a table there, there's a file with all kinds of information on him.  I hired a private investigator a few years ago to find him.  I still believed that he was my son."

"Alright."  Another look towards the glass.  I knew that sent a car to the Pogue.  I only hoped that in running out, James hadn't found the bar and taken off with the file, or worse.  An officer knocked on the door and came in with the report I'd filed on my missing gun; signed, dated, and notarized at 7:30 a.m. on September 18, 1979.  "Alright.  You're off the hook for Jeffers.  For now.  Do you want to tell me what happened tonight?"

I wasn't sure I wanted to, but I didn't feel I had much of a choice.  "I was at my bar, looking over the case file from my wife's murder with Detective Hoyt.  He. . .he had gotten his hands on the phone records from the night before. Something I'd never been able to do.  That confirmed that Emily had talked with Malden the night before she died.  The night their son had visited her.  I got a call, I don't know who from, telling me that Jordan was in some kind of trouble at her apartment.  It was stupid, I know, because I'd been drinking, but I grabbed my gun and Detective Hoyt's keys and took off to Jordan's apartment."

"You took Detective Hoyt's keys?"

"He'd already followed me once today.  I didn't want him following me again. There was no need to put him at risk as well."

"Alright."  She made a note in her file; probably "we'll need to deal with this later," or something.  She looked back at me.  "What happened after that."

"I got to Jordan's apartment and heard a gunshot.  I opened the door and found James holding a gun on Malden, who was holding his stomach.  I tried to talk James down, but it wasn't working.  He wasn't listening to anyone.  I. . .I tried to pull the gun away from James and it went off.  But I swear to you, I did not pull the trigger."

Walcott just looked at me, trying to determine if I was the stupidest person she'd ever met or telling the truth.  About that time, the reports came back on the gun, and my hands.  Surprisingly, Renee read the results out loud. The gun had been fired four times recently.  Obviously from close range as there were microscopic drops of blood on it.  There were traces of powder residue found on me, but they weren't consistent with me having fired the gun.  She put the file down and looked at me.  I was amazed to hear her voice soften a bit.  "And where was Jordan while all this was going on?"

"She was in the apartment.  We, Detective Hoyt and I, found her at the end of her loft close to the bathroom.  She wasn't aware of what had happened.  We both thought she might have been shot in the struggle, but there were no entry or exit wounds.  She told us she'd gone to talk to Malden to get some answers about her mother's murder."

"She thinks he did it?"

"I don't know.  I think there's the possibility that he is involved somehow, but I don't know how and I'm not making accusations."

"I understand."

"She said that he'd given her methylhexital in scotch and made her take him to James.  James was staying in her apartment.  I don't know what the story is there."

"Alright."  Walcott paced to the end of the room.  "Based on what we have here, I can't hold you.  But I will ask you not to leave town, Mr. Cavanaugh."

"Alright.  I can do that."  As she opened the door to let me out, Woody walked by, apparently finished with his interrogation.

"Max?  Is everything. . .?"

"He's free to go for now.  I have advised him to stay in town for the foreseeable future."  Walcott turned down another hallway, muttering something about "finding the damn driver," and leaving Woody and me standing there.

"Where's Jordan?"

"Walcott finally agreed to let Eddie Winslow take her to the hospital.  She's at Boston University Medical Center."

"I'll drive us.  That is, if that's. . ."

"Thanks Woody.  I'd appreciate that."

********************

Jordan. . .

How the hell do they think I can tell them anything?  I can barely even think straight enough to put these thoughts together.  Oh great, the door's opening.

"Jordan?"  I looked up to see Eddie Winslow walk into the room.  Great.

"Hey Eddie."

"What's going on?  Why are you here?"

"You mean that file in your hand doesn't tell you anything?"  Wow.  A whole sentence.  Wait, I'm spinning.

"No, I mean, what's wrong.  You look like hell."

"Methylhexital.  And scotch.  Thanks to your late Chief."

"Malden drugged you?"

"Yep."

Eddie walked over to the phone.  "I need someone to go to Malden's office and get a glass that. . .  You've already got it?  How?  Oh, I see.  Well, I have the person who most likely ingested the drug in Interrogation 4, and if that's the case, we've got to get her to the hospital.  Let me know ASAP.  Thanks."

"Ok Jordan.  Just sit tight.  Seems Woody Hoyt already told them about the glass and it's in the lab now.  They're working on it."

"Ok."  Things are getting fuzzy.  Yeah ~ I'm definitely spinning.  Or the room is.

Eddie. . .

Shit!  Why the hell didn't they take her straight to the hospital?  I don't care what the accusation is, you can keep someone in custody at the hospital.  It's obvious that something's wrong with her.

"Jordan?  Jordan, come on.  Stay with me."  I'm losing her here.  Screw Walcott's orders.  "We're going to need paramedics and an ambulance here now!  Interrogation 4.  Thank you.  Jordan?  Come on, don't fade out on me.  They're sending help right now."  I heard a knock on the door and just yelled for them to come in.  There was no way I was going to let her fall out of the chair.  It was the lab report.  That s.o.b. really did it ~ methylhexital and scotch.  Shit!

I heard the sounds of a gurney being pushed through the hall, so I sent the uniform out to flag them down.  As soon as they had Jordan and I'd filled them in on what I knew and they were getting her ready for transport, I grabbed the uniform and the lab report and headed down the hall to Interrogation 2, where I knew Renee Walcott was questioning Max.

We knocked on the door, and Walcott opened it.  We stepped just inside and gave her the report.  She looked them over and turned to the officer.  "And you're sure that she's the one who was in the office?"

"Yes ma'am.  The officer at the desk specifically remembered her coming in and leaving with him.  Malden said she was sick and he was taking her home.  It's all in the record at the desk.  And the glass tests positive for methylhexital.  Actually, several of the glasses were coated with it.  And the prints on the glass match hers."

"And she's definitely under the influence of something.  It's been a while since I looked up specifics on that particular drug, but in the family combined with scotch, her actions do seem consistent with the combo."  I looked at Max, trying to make him see that I was doing all I could to help Jordan ~ and him.  I knew there was so much history between us he had no reason to trust me, but taking care of Jordan was something I could do right.

Walcott snapped the folder shut. "Alright.  Take her to Boston University Medical Center.  And keep an eye on her.  Just like any. . ."

"The paramedics are already getting her ready for transport.  I won't leave her side.  I promise you."  Renee's eyes flared when I said that the paramedics were already on scene, but as the questioning officer, it was well within my jurisdiction to determine if the suspect needed medical attention.  I added the last part more for Max than for Walcott.  I think he understood.

I went back to the room and found that they already had Jordan strapped onto the gurney and hooked up to oxygen and an IV.  One of the paramedics looked at me.  "It's just fluid, trying to flush that crap out of her system."

"Ok.  We're going to BUMC."  Jordan was trying to look at me, trying to say something, but her eyes weren't focusing, and her mouth wasn't working.  "It's ok, Jordan.  Everything's going to be fine."

We got loaded into the ambulance and one of the squad cars agreed to follow us and headed for the hospital.  They said that since it was all liquid, it was probably spread throughout her system already, but they pumped her stomach just to make sure.  And kept her hooked up to the IV.

Once we knew what was going on, I called Walcott to let her know.  She told me she was about finished with Max and it looked like he was cleared, but she was advising him to stay in town.  I asked her about the charges against Jordan and she said that the gun had been turned in, and in this case it could result in bad press all around, so she was prepared to overlook it this time.  I thanked her and went back inside.

I told the uniforms that Walcott said the charges were being dropped and they were free to go.  So she hadn't authorized the last part.  I knew there was no way Jordan could have fired any type of gun in the state she was in, so I made a judgment call.  If it came back to bite me in the butt, so be it.  

They moved Jordan into a small room in a back corner of the ER so they could keep an eye on her vitals.  I pulled a chair up next to her bed.  Even with the hell she'd been through tonight she looked good.  I always thought she looked good.  But first Max was all, "my daughter's not going to get involved with a cop" and then there was everything that happened with IAD and. . .  Water under the bridge.  I still had to ask her a few questions.  I tried to convince myself that's why I stayed.

After about an hour, Jordan started to come around.  "Where am I?"

"Hey!  There you are.  We brought you to the hospital.  You were really out of it and you needed more help than we could give you at the precinct."

"And let me guess.  You're here because I'm still under arrest?"

"I just need to ask you some questions, Jordan.  Do you feel up to answering some of them?"

"I'll try."

"Ok.  Let's start with recent things.  What happened tonight?  Why were you in Malden's office and why was he at your apartment?"

"I went to see him to find out about what happened to my mother."

"Why do you think that he knew. . .?"

"He and my mother had an affair about 8 years before I was born.  I have an older half-brother.  Malden's his father."

"Ok."

"James, that's his name, went to visit Mom the night before she died.  I was at Kim's working on a school project, so that's why I never knew about it.  Mom called Malden later that night.  Then she ended up dead the next day."

"But why do you think that. . .?"

"Mom gave James the gun Dad kept at home. She thought he was in danger.  He said that a few days after that, Jeffers came to kill him.  He said he shot Jeffers in self-defense."

"So that's how Jeffers ties into this.  Ok.  Things are starting to fall together."

"James came to see me yesterday afternoon.  He said people were after him and wanted to kill him.  He wanted to stay in my apartment for a few days.  I wanted to believe him, so I said ok."

"And then you went to see Malden?"

"After I went to Dad's bar.  He and Woody were looking at Mom's case file and that's where Dad put everything together.  The phone records were never there before.  Malden kept them out."

"Because of the phone call."

"Yeah.  I guess he didn't want anyone to know he was a giant screw up.  He gave me a scotch and then told me some stuff I really didn't care about, and then asked me where James was.  I knew ~or I thought ~ he wanted to hurt James, and so I said I wasn't telling.  That's when he told me that there was methylhexital mixed in with the scotch.  The next thing I knew we were at my apartment and James and Malden were fighting over a gun."

"James and Malden?  Just them?  Not your father too?"

"No.  Not at first.  There were a couple of shots fired and I went to hide in the bathroom.  Out of sight, hopefully out of Malden's mind.  James was trying to protect me."

"Ok.  So when did Max get there?"

"After the first two shots.  I didn't know who was hit.  I heard Dad come in the apartment yelling for me, and then he was arguing with James and/or Malden.  I couldn't see what was going on.  I heard two more shots.  And then Woody came in."

"Anything else?"

"No.  I think they had a stand off for a minute.  Then I heard Woody grunt and footsteps running down the hall.  I heard Dad and Woody talking.  I didn't know who was shot.  If it was James or Malden.  I tried to stand up and walk into the apartment.  That's when they found me."

"Ok."

"Then Woody called things in and they came and took us away.  Where's Dad?"

"He's still at the precinct.  The D.A.'s handling his questioning."

"Great."

"It's ok.  If what you heard squares with what he tells her, things will be ok."

"You don't know how much she hates me.  I don't know why, but she does."

"Jordan. . .  Can I see your hands?"

"Why?"

"Just. . .thanks."  Thank God.  At least she didn't fire the gun.  "Ok.  Good.  No powder residue.  I just needed to make sure that. . ."

"Nope.  Haven't touched a gun all day."

"Alright.  I need to step outside and make a phone call.  You stay put."

"Ok."

So I went outside and again called Walcott to see what was up.  She confirmed that Max had indeed been released with the caveat that he not leave town.  He and Woody Hoyt were on the way to the hospital as we spoke.  I went back into Jordan's room.  For my own peace of mind, I needed to know something else.

"Jordan?  Why did you take the gun from Jeffers' scene?"

"I thought I could get some answers from it.  How do you. . .?"

"The new guy, Peter, turned it in when he figured out what it was."

"Remind me to kick his butt later.  By the way, are the two of you related?"

"What?"

"His last name is Winslow too."

"Oh.  No.  We're not.  At least not that I'm aware of.  But because he turned it in, Walcott's not going to press obstruction charges against you."

"So what does that mean?"

"When they release you, you're free to go."

"Oh.  So why are you here?"

"I needed to ask you a few questions.  Just to make sure things squared."

"Oh.  Ok.  Well, you can leave if you want since I'm not under arrest anymore."

"If it's ok, I think I'll stay until your dad gets here."

"I'd like that, Eddie.  Thanks."

**************************

Woody. . .

Great.  This is just great!  Why for once can't I fall for a normal, non-affiliated with a cop girl?  Just when I was about to actually think there might be a chance for Jordan and me this happens.  I mean, sure, there still could, but given everything that's just happened.  I couldn't read her look when she left.  I don't know if she really understood that I do want to help her however I can.  Shit.

"Detective Hoyt?  I'm Carl Michaelson from Internal Affairs.  Mind if I ask you a few questions?"

Great.  Internal Affairs.  "No, no problem.  But can you do something for me first?"

"What?"

"There's a glass on Malden's desk with a little bit of scotch and most likely methylhexital in it.  Can we get it tested for the drug?  And printed?"

"Any particular prints?"

"I'm thinking they're going to match Jordan Cavanaugh."

"She's in Interrogation 4."

"If she ingested that drug, she should be in the hospital."

"You're right.  One moment."  He picked up the phone and spoke to someone, relating everything I'd said.  "Ok.  How did you come to be at Jordan Cavanaugh's residence this evening?"

"Jordan and I are friends.  I guess you know that she works in the M.E.'s office.  We've worked together on cases before."

"Yes, I'm aware of that."

"She's been searching for her mother's murderer for the past 23 years.  I don't know exactly all the details, but some of the clues led her to the trunk of the car where Jeffers' body was found.  She was in deep.  I was trying to help her.  I. . .I know it wasn't the smartest thing I've ever done.  I went to talk with her father a couple of times tonight.  I thought maybe he could help her."

"And what happened?"

"The first time, I followed him to an apartment.  It's in the name of a James Horton.  Max thought James was his son until January.  I'm not clear on the rest of that story.  But he's actually Malden's son."

"Ok.  And the other time?"

"I went back to Max's bar after I'd found out some information on the IAD investigation of Malden that ended after Jeffers went missing and Max wouldn't talk.  I also got the case file on Max's wife along with some phone records that had been kept out of the file."

"Why?"

"Why had they been kept out?  I can only guess because Emily Cavanaugh had called to talk with Malden the night before she died."

"Alright."

"While I was there with that information, Max got a phone call ~ I don't know from whom.  He started to get upset and left.  He took my keys to keep me from following him.  But I had a spare key in my wallet.  The first place I came was here to Malden's office. He wasn't there, but dispatch located his driver ~ right in front of Jordan's apartment.  There was a glass with lipstick on it.  I assumed that Jordan had somehow put things together and had gone to confront him.  When dispatch gave me the location of Malden's car, I went straight over there to make sure Jordan was ok."

"And what happened when you got there?"

"The elevator seemed to be stuck, so I ran up the stairs to the third floor.  As I was coming out of the stairwell, I heard two gunshots.  I was worried for Jordan's safety, so I kicked in the door.  I saw. . .I saw Max Cavanaugh standing over Malden's body, holding a gun.  It looked like Max was in shock.  He turned towards me, and I thought for a minute he was going to shoot himself or me.  Finally he lowered the gun and dropped it on the ground.  Someone, probably Malden's son James, hit me on the head with a baseball bat and ran out.  We tried to find Jordan, and she was obviously under the influence of something.  I called it in.  And here we are."

"Alright.  Do you have any clue where the driver might be now?"

"No sir.  He was there when I got to Jordan's apartment.  But the car was nowhere to be seen when I came out."

"Ok.  I've got what I need right now.  Let's go and see what the lab reports are."

So we went to the lab where they told us they'd already confirmed that the glass had Jordan's prints on it and had methylhexital in it.  Eddie Winslow, her questioning officer, went to BUMC with her.

I went to check and see how Max's interrogation was going.  Thankfully Walcott didn't figure out that I was in the observation room.  It wasn't pretty, but things were looking a little better than they seemed when I went into Jordan's apartment.  When I saw that Renee was about to give Max the "don't leave town" speech, I went out of the room and down the hall so it wouldn't be obvious I'd been in observation.

He came out and Walcott confirmed that he could leave the precinct.  Max said that Winslow had gone with Jordan to BUMC and I offered to drive us.  Max agreed, so we went to get in my car.

It was an awkward drive.  Max wasn't in the mood to talk with me about things, and I wasn't sure what to say.  I knew we were both worried as hell about Jordan, so we did make some small talk about hoping that she was ok.  Soon enough we were there.

We walked in, and Max asked about her at the desk.  They pointed us down the hall to a small room towards the back of the ER.  We walked down the hall and stopped outside the door.  Through the window, I could see Eddie Winslow sitting in a chair next to Jordan's bed. It looked like he was holding her hand.  And she was definitely laughing.  Involuntarily I tensed up.

"It's ok, Hoyt.  Eddie was my last partner.  He and Jordan have known each other for a while."

"Oh."

"But I don't think you have anything to worry about.  From him anyway."

"What?"

"Jordan's got a long memory and isn't likely to take up with the person who turned her dad in."

"No, I meant. . ."

"Now, if what she said at her apartment is true. . ."

"Um, sir, I. . .uh. . ."

"Relax.  She's a big girl.  Now, do you want to go in and see her, or are you going to let him stay there?"

"Good point.  Let's go."

We went in, and Jordan looked so relieved to see Max ok ~ and not in jail.  He explained that he's not going on vacation anytime soon, but things were ok.  Eddie confirmed that Jordan was free to go once the hospital released her.  He said he'd see us later and left.

Shortly after he left, the doctor came in and began the process to release Jordan from the hospital.  Max and I looked at each other.  We hadn't though of what to do now.

"Jordan, sweetheart, your apartment is a crime scene right now.  You can't go back there until it's been cleared and cleaned."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

"If you want. . ."

"Dad?  No offense, but I don't want to go home tonight."

"Alright, sweetheart.  I understand.  But where will you go?"

"I don't know."

I couldn't just sit by.  I wasn't going to take advantage of anything, but. . .  "Jordan?  If you want, I've got a bed and a sofa bed.  You can come to my place.  I'll take the sofa bed."

"Well, I. . ."

"I promise.  No funny stuff."

"Alright.  Dad?  Is it ok with you?"

"It's fine, baby.  You need to be with a friend right now."

The orderly came in with Jordan's clothes and the release papers from the doctor.  Max and I left so that Jordan could get changed, then we left.  Since Max had been taken to the station in the squad car, we dropped him off at his house, then drove to my apartment.

"Here we are.  I'll show you where the bedroom is, and you can borrow a t-shirt to sleep in."

"Thanks Woody.  I mean that."

"It's not a problem Jordan.  I'm glad I'm able to do it."

"Is there a chance I could get a bath?"

"Sure.  I'll set some towels out for you."

Jordan ran a bath and disappeared into the bathroom to soak for a while.  I tried not to think about what was on the other side of the closed bathroom door while I made up the sofa bed.  I meant what I said.  I was not going to take advantage of the situation.  After about half an hour, Jordan came out of the bathroom wearing one of my t-shirts.  She said good night and headed to the bedroom.  I'd just gotten settled into the sofa bed when I heard footsteps pad down the short hall.  I looked up and saw Jordan standing in the room, leaned up against the wall.  Her cheeks looked wet, like she'd been crying.

"Woody?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm scared."


	3. Chapter 3

...She looked so small standing there in my Packers t-shirt. I briefly imagined her uttering the same words to her mother or father as a young child. I sat up in the bed to get a better look at her. She had definitely been crying. Her cheeks were streaked with tears and her chest was heaving slightly with the shaky breaths of a person who had recently been gasping between sobs. I cursed myself for not having heard her cries and gone to her sooner. I sat up and the still cool sheets, not yet draped over me long enough to have been warmed by my body heat, slid down my bare chest and crept to a stop at my navel. I leaned back on my hands and sighed.  
  
"Of what?" I asked slowly having been bewildered out of my dozing slumber.  
  
Jordan shifted her feet on the shag carpet and wrapped her arms around herself. She chuckled sadly. "Tonight?" She asked and looked up at the ceiling for an answer. "Everything."  
  
She said and I got the impression that this was her way of telling me she would rather not be alone right now. Even if she was only about 12 feet from me in the room.  
  
I smiled sadly and beckoned her over with a nod. She jumped away from the wall and reached around the corner of the hallway to grab the pillow she had cleverly planted there in hopeful preparation that I would invite her to join me. I smiled and grabbed my own pillow, prepared to move to the recliner beside the sofa bed and let Jordan have the couch. Before I could move though, Jordan was suddenly beside me on the bed, a hand gripping tightly around the crook of my arm. I turned to her, bent on inquiring into what was wrong, but before the words could leave my mouth, Jordan interrupted me.  
  
"Woody," She said softly but with a touch of desperation, "A VERY independent woman with personal space issues who you have developed a reasonably strong attraction to and vice versa is asking you to HOLD her and let her make-believe, if only for a night, that her world is NOT being torn apart at the seams and that she is safe and protected and...and...someone gives a damn."  
  
She stopped to take the pillow out of my arms and lay it back down on the sofa bed, as I could only continue to kneel, dumfounded, on the edge of the sofa bed in my underwear and stare at her.  
  
"So" She continues, "just...go with it okay?"  
  
She says slipping under the covers and pulling the sheets up around herself before rolling to her side with her back to me. I remained kneeling for a few more seconds, making sure that I had heard everything I just heard clearly, and then slowly lay back down on the thin, uncomfortable mattress and pulled the sheets up around myself. After another few seconds, I uncertainly inched forward and lay my arm over Jordan's slender midsection under the covers. My hand slid over the rough, worn lettering of the old t- shirt and I let my fingers toy nervously with it for a moment as I tried to decide how best to approach holding her.  
  
Jordan, frustrated with my reluctance, rolled once again, this time to face me, and one soft, smooth arm finagled it's way around my own waist as the other arm traveled up my chest and slipped possessively between my neck and the mattress. Jordan let the hand of that arm lay gently on my shoulder, the longest fingertip nearly able to reach out and run along my collarbone. She sighed heavily and tucked her head under my chin.  
  
Inadvertently, I sighed as well and the slow breeze of air from my nose rustled Jordan's hair and it tickled my upper lip. I relaxed into her arms, and then pulled her body closer to mine. I let my left hand lay at the base of her spine, just at the small of her back and with the other, I held her tightly around the shoulders in the same way she held me. In this position, Jordan was shifted higher up the bed and we were face to face. I wasn't surprised to find her eyes opened wide. She stared intently into my eyes in the dark and I swallowed hard.  
  
"You don't have to be afraid anymore, Jordan." I whispered softly across the millimeters between us. She blinked slowly, her body finally succumbing to sleep. "I'm with you now. You're safe. You're protected." I said taking her legs with my own and molding my larger muscular frame to be nearly on top of her. It was in no way a sexual gesture, I just wanted to be as close to her as possible. Jordan wiggled her toes against my hairy legs as she drifted off into a semi-peaceful sleep.  
  
I watched for the even breathing of deep sleep, and when I was sure she was out, I placed a soft, light-as-air kiss on her lips. She stirred slightly and I returned my chin to its resting place on top of her head.  
  
Around three am, I was awakened by a nagging pull that I quickly recognized as a full bladder.  
  
I hated to leave Jordan when she was sleeping so soundly, but the risk of embarrassing myself by wetting the bed like a 3 year old made it a little more tolerable. I slowly untangled our knotted limbs and slid out from under Jordan. She stirred but then grabbed onto my pillow and drifted off again. I crept to the bathroom and didn't even bother to shut the door for fear I would wake her up. I took care of business and then picked up some discarded clothing on the bathroom floor, trying to respect the fact that a woman was around and keep tidy. As I was gently placing the clothes in my hamper while scanning the small room for a pair of shorts to put over my boxer-briefs, I heard a few soft "No's" from the other room. I stood still so I could listen better, my ears honing in on the source. I heard the sofa bed creak and the sheets being swished around on the bed.  
  
"No! Please! James! I won't tell you...I won't tell...I won't tell where he is! No! Don't!"  
  
As soon as Jordan began to cry out, I hurried back into the room and flipped on the dim kitchen light as I rushed to the couch. I took Jordan in my arms tightly and rocked her awake, calling her name softly into her ear. Jordan blinked awake and strained to catch her breath. She hid her face shamefully in the crook of my arm and I sighed when I felt warm tears on my skin.  
  
We stayed that way for what seemed like an hour but was probably a few minutes and then Jordan sat slowly up, and looked around the room. Finally, she let her eyes fall on me and more pointedly, on my lack of clothing that she hadn't noticed earlier. I smiled and reached under the bed, yanking out my dress pants and sleeveless undershirt.  
  
"I think we need a drink." I said pulling the shirt over my head and pulling up the pants but not bothering to fasten them.  
  
Jordan just nodded silently and I helped her off the bed. She padded barefoot across the kitchen floor and took a seat at the small table. I set two glasses down and put some whiskey in each. We sat silently for several minutes; each slowly sipping our drinks, and finally Jordan spoke.  
  
"I was so scared Woody." She said pulling her legs up on the chair and pulling the shirt over them in a very child-like way. I didn't say anything, just let her continue.  
  
"When he told me...that I had just swallowed methylhexital...it...it...felt like I had been raped."  
  
I must have scared Jordan a little, because I am sure my head snapped quickly up and all of the adrenaline in my body had me poised to take off and shoot someone. She sensed my concern and raised a hand, shaking it vigorously.  
  
"No, no... no he didn't touch me. I just....you know FELT violated." She said and I felt my muscles relax slowly. I began to slowly spin my glass on the table.  
  
"You wanna talk about it?" I asked and looked up from my glass to Jordan's eyes. She sighed heavily.  
  
"When I told him that...I knew he was James' father...he barely flinched....like he was prepared for this. I should have known what he was doing. He...he...got up and went right to the drinks. I'm not an idiot. And I'm certainly not naïve. I'm a cop's daughter and I fell for that." She said ashamed and rested her chin on her knees. I shook my head.  
  
"He was a cop too Jordan. He knew how to play you. This wasn't your fault at all except that." I said and trailed off, not wanting to start a fight with her tonight.  
  
Jordan looked up and narrowed her eyes at me.  
  
"Except that what?" She asked defensively. I sighed and stood from the table, carrying my glass to the sink.  
  
"You were right when I came and bailed you out of jail in California. I HAD said that I would help you. Even though it had been 3 months earlier and I said that it wasn't fair of you to use that when you did....you were right. I will ALWAYS help you, Jordan. I meant that. And tonight you chose not to ask for it when you needed it most. You have to learn to trust me. Seriously, I am as far from your enemy as I can get. So why didn't you ask me to go with you to see Malden? None of this would have happened if you had just ASKED me to go."  
  
I looked out the kitchen window at the building across the street.  
  
"I'd do just about anything for you, Jordan." I said softly, setting the glass down in the sink.  
  
When I turned back to Jordan, She was standing right next to me, her glass already on the counter. There were tears in her eyes again, but I had a sneaking suspicion that they weren't sad tears. I was wrong.  
  
"I'm...I'm sorry...that I let you down Woody. I never meant to hurt you. I say I'm not worried about hurting my friends...but...I'm the wolf man." She said with a sad chuckle and I narrowed my eyes in confusion at her. I didn't really get the point, but Jordan apparently did and that's all that mattered right then.  
  
She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around my waist. I wrapped my own arms securely around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. We stayed that way for several minutes, and then Jordan spoke.  
  
"What's the matter?" She asked quietly. "Not gonna try and sneak another little kiss tonight?" She asked and lifted her head from my chest to look into my scarlet face.  
  
I decided to one up her and bent my head down to capture her lips. I kissed her in the same soft manner as I had earlier, making sure to leave her not sure whether I actually kissed her or not. When I pulled back Jordan opened her eyes and smiled at me the same way she had during our last kiss in California. I smiled back and took her hand.  
  
I led her over to the sofa bed and she quickly slid back under the covers. I pulled off my dress pants but left on the undershirt and climbed back into the bed myself. I wrapped Jordan easily in my embrace and she rolled over again to be facing me and once again wrapped an arm around my waist and one around my neck. Then she was partially on top of me, one bare leg thrown comfortably around both of mine. I wrapped both arms around her waist and ran a hand up and down her back as she fell soundly asleep once again and I followed closely behind.  
  
When I woke up around eight, I cursed myself for the thoughts running through my mind as I realized Jordan was sprawled out over me and my hand was spread across her warm, naked hip.  
  
Okay...ummmm, this was not good, yet I couldn't quite remove my hand. I strained for some gross things to think of... my third grade teacher Mrs. Hildy naked..ummmm, my God she is soft...sports...that's good....bad sports scenarios...ummm, Laker girls, NO...the Packers trading Favre... warm, firm...ummmmm, ...What else...oh...I wonder what Nigel does on the weekend?...maybe...Oh God! I thought, my face muscles contorting in anguish. This isn't working...it isn't working because I can tell she's wearing a thong...and I can't control how my anatomy is beginning react to this little discovery so I better think of some way out and fast! If she woke up I'd be a dead man. I stared at the ceiling, willing God to hear my pleas.  
  
Please, please, please.. I thought cringing.... Anything but that!.... Shit, I'm a dead man. I thought helplessly as the "Southerners" were beginning to rebel against orders. Just as I was about to lose all hope of not embarrassing myself, there was a knock at my door. I slid quickly out from under a waking Jordan and hurried to the door.  
  
I didn't even think to look through the peep hole; I just pulled open the door. And found Jordan's father standing inches away from me holding a bag of what I assumed were baked goods. It had just become official, I was a dead man. Quickly assessing my predicament, I folded my hands strategically in front of "Woody Jr." and nervously stuttered,  
  
"Max! What a nice surprise!" I said trying to draw any and all of Max's attention away from his one and only child awakening behind me on the bed I had promised last night would hold only myself. He looked around the room, obviously noting my clothes strewn across the floor and the disarray in which the sheets of the sofa bed were in, and how could he miss the two head imprints on the pillows beside Jordan? He couldn't.  
  
Max looked amused from Jordan, who was sitting Indian style on the mattress, a dumb 'you caught me' grin on her face, to me standing in front of him and said,  
  
"I shoulda shot you when I had the chance, Hoyt."  
  
He said and pushed past me into my apartment, clearly letting his authority be known. I turned quickly and began a hurried explanation.  
  
"I swear, Max. NOTHING happened! Jordan was scared, she didn't wanna sleep alone. So I let her lay with me. I did nothing more than hold her while she slept. I swear on her life!" I said and Jordan suddenly cut in with a sleepy, 'Hey!' To which I had to admit to my two light kisses.  
  
Max merely nodded and grumbled something as he headed into the kitchen and set down the bags. I started to say more, but as I did, Jordan and my pagers when off in unison. I embarrassedly searched the floor for my pager and Jordan picked hers up off the coffee table.  
  
"Tick tock?" I asked quizzically and looked up from my pager at Jordan who was reading her message with a smile.  
  
"It's from Garret." She said without doubt. "He's giving us a heads up on something." She said as I rushed to the bedroom to change, glad to have something take the attention away from me.  
  
To be continued..... 


	4. Chapter 4

To my dismay, I found that Max's arrival had done nothing to help the situation I found myself in when I awakened, fully aware of Jordan's presence with me in the bed.

"Um, Jordan?  I'm just going to grab a quick shower before I get dressed."  A VERY COLD shower I added to myself.

"Ok.  You do that Wood."  Was it me or was she trying not to laugh?  "I'll give Garret a call and see what's up."

As I moved into the bathroom, all I could do was wonder at what would be said between Max and Jordan in my absence.  "JesusGodAlmighty that water's cold!" I thought to myself.  "Well, hopefully it will work.  And hopefully they're not plotting how to bump me off."

**********

"So, Jordan. . ."

"Dad, what he said was true.  NOTHING happened.  I just. . .  I got scared.  I. . ."

"Honey, I'm not as concerned about that.  You're an adult and what you do is your business. It's just way too easy to jerk his chains."

"Don't I know it."

"I wanted to talk with you about last night."

"What about it?"

"Why did you go to see Malden?"

"I know who he is.  Or, I guess was."

"What?"

"I came to the Pogue.  You and Woody were talking and never heard me come in.  I stayed just inside the doorway.  I heard you talking about the phone records.  I know he's James' father."

"Jordan, sweetheart."

"James had come to my apartment earlier.  He. . .he said that someone sent Jeffers to kill him.  That Mom was afraid of something happening to him, so she gave him your gun.  That he shot Jeffers in self-defense."

"But. . ."

"He said that his father must have been someone who would have been embarrassed by having him around.  We figured it was someone important.  Then I heard you and Woody.  Dad, I had to talk to him.  He could have held all the answers.  I. . .Dad, maybe you've given up your need for answers, but I can't.  I have to know what happened."

"I know baby.  And I realize that I made a lot of mistakes after. . ."

"Dad?  I know, but I'll survive.  Promise.  But, um, could we talk about that later? I should probably call Garret and get dressed myself."

"Want me to hang around?"

"If you want.  I don't know what he's going to say."

"Fine.  I'll stay."

"What was that about me being an adult and what I do is my business and all?"

"You and that memory."  Dad threw a pillow at me as I moved towards Woody's room.  "Oh, sweetheart?"

"Yeah?"

"Here. I almost forgot."  He tossed a duffel bag at me.  "I grabbed some clothes you'd left at the house a while back.  Figured you might not want to keep wearing the same clothes for as long as it takes them to inventory what they need to at your place."

"Oh, yeah.  Thanks Dad."

I went into Woody's bedroom and shut the door.  When I opened the bag, there were a couple of pairs of jeans and some tops.  I grabbed the red tank top and raided Woody's closet for a sweatshirt to take the chill off when we went outside.  I heard the shower cut off, and yelled to Woody, "Hey, do you have any rubber bands or anything?"

"Um, probably in the kitchen."

"Ok, thanks."  I needed to pull my hair back and. . .

"Jordan?  There's some hair stuff in the bottom of the bag."  Dad was laughing at my unusual inattention to detail.

"Oh.  Ok. Thanks."  I looked, and sure enough, a small bag with a brush and some hair elastics was tucked into the duffel.  I started to pull my hair back into a ponytail when I heard a knock on the door.

"Um, Jordan?  Are you dressed enough that I could come in there and get dressed?"

"Oh, sure Woody.  I can put my hair up somewhere else."  I opened the door to find him standing there in a towel, his hair damp and ruffled.  If only Dad wasn't there. . .  "Thanks for the sweatshirt."  

"Uh, no problem."  He shut the door behind him.

I moved to the kitchen and found Dad spreading peanut butter on half a bagel.  "I remember you liked these for breakfast and thought. . ."

"Thanks Dad."  I gave him a kiss on the cheek as I took the bagel and moved into the den to call Garret.  My pager was going off again.  "Ok, ok.  Chill out."

Garret picked up almost before I heard a ring.  "Hello?"

"Um, Garret. . ."

"Jordan, where the hell are you?"

"At Woody's."

"At Woo-. . .?  What?"

"Couldn't go home Garret.  It's a crime scene."

"Never mind. I don't even want to know."

"So, um, Garret?  Was there a reason you paged me?  Twice?"

"Yeah.  We've got something here at the morgue.  I wanted to give you a heads up."

"Is it bad?"

"Can you get down here?"

"Garret. . .?!?"

"I wouldn't say bad, but it's. . .intriguing."

"And you're not going to tell me over the phone?"

"How soon can you get here?"

"Hang on. . ."  I held the phone slightly away from my mouth and yelled towards Woody's door.  "Hey farm boy!  How much longer?"

"I'm almost ready.  Two minutes?"

"Can you give us about 10?  Five for farm boy to finish getting ready and five to get there?"

"Fine.  I'll see you then."

"Ok."

I turned to find Dad and Woody looking at me quizzically.  "I don't know.  He wouldn't tell me.  He said it's 'intriguing' but not bad."

"Alright.  Well, since my car's here and already on the street. . .  Do you think I can come along?"

"I don't see why not, Dad.  Come on.  We'd better get over there before he blows a gasket."

After a quick drive ~ Dad knows all the shortcuts ~ we got to the morgue.  As we stepped off the elevator, Garret met us and rushed us into the crypt, which was more guarded than I'd ever seen it.

"Garret, what's up with the security?  Who've we got in here?"

He led us over to the bank of drawers and slid one open.  He pulled the sheet down, revealing a face. "Look familiar?"

Woody, standing directly across from me, looked at the man blankly.  But I knew exactly who he was.  "That's Malden's driver.  I might have been out of it last night, but I'd recognize him anywhere.  This was the tick tock?"

"He was dumped outside the morgue.  Nigel found the body as he was coming in.  While we were dealing with moving him up here, someone tried to break into the crypt.  And they almost got away with a body."

"Do I want to know?"

"We found the drawer to Malden's slab open.  Looked like whoever it was dumped this body as a distraction and was trying to steal or harm Malden's body to hinder our investigation."

"But who would. . ."  I realized Dad had been silent since we entered the crypt.  I looked at him, wondering what was going on.  "Dad?"

"I know who this is."  He was looking down at the body Garret had pulled out for us to see.

"The driver?"  How the hell. . .?

"It's Patrick Cahill.  Kevin's son."


	5. Chapter 5

"Hail, hail the gang's all here." 

 I cringed inwardly when I heard Renee Walcott's deceptively calm voice behind me.  

"I thought you were off this case Dr. Cavanaugh; or am I mistaken Garret."

I knew Garret had gone out on a limb to call us in here.  I had just begun to see how much.   

Before I could speak Garret said "Believe it or not the world did not stop revolving sometime yesterday Renee.  I have a morgue full of bodies that need attention...."

"And I suppose that's why you can take time out of your busy schedule to give dog and pony tours to suspended homicide detectives and officious bar owners.  Stop blowing smoke up my ass Garret, it's getting old."  With a snap of her fingers Renee called in a pair of burly uniformed officers.  "Please escort these three off the premises, if you please."

I wasn't ready to leave yet.  I knew Garret called us in there for more than a viewing.  I had to think quickly.  But once again, Garret beat me to the punch.

"Dr. Cavanaugh is here to pick up some health insurance forms from my office.  If the Commonwealth used an insurance company that had automatic filing this would not be an issue."

 He turned to me and looked me square into the eyes. "You'll find them sitting next to some case files on the left side of my desk." 

 I knew he wanted me to look at the folders.  He turned back to Renee and asked her to follow him to Trace mumbling something about the bullet that killed Cahill.

"Can I go get them? Promise I'll be good." I crossed my heart and gave the bigger of the two Neanderthals a sugary smile. 

It must have worked because I was allowed to go in.  I knew I only had a few moments.  I saw the preliminary files on the two cases sitting on the edge of Garret's desk. This had to be what he was hinting about.  I knew I'd probably catch hell for this later but I slipped them up under the oversized sweatshirt I was wearing.  I look down and notice the sweatshirt didn't quite disguise them.  I came out of the room clutching my stomach. It wasn't too far of a stretch.  The hang over I felt coming on from evening before was rearing its ugly head. 

"Ah... thank you. I think I need to go...Dad, I'm not feeling well.  I need some air..."

I had to bite my lip when I noticed the concerned look on Woody's face.  But I really didn't need one of Renee's watch dogs to close to me. I was relived when Garret winked at me from the door to Trace as we stepped up to the elevator.  He knew what I had done.  If he didn't, I could at least assume he would cover for the missing reports.

"Jordan, do we need to get you back to the hospital?" Woody said.

"No, I'll be fine." I looked over at our escorts who were keeping a wide berth away from me.  I gagged a few times to make sure they kept their distance. 

I kept the routine up until we were safely in Dad's car.  Dad turned to me and held out his hand....waiting. 

"Hand it over, Fingers..."

 I knew I couldn't fool everybody.  I just smiled and lifted the sweatshirt up pulling out the two manila files.

As I handed them over to Dad, Woody began "Oh shit, Jordan that doesn't look like an insurance form......They're the M.E. files on Malden and Cahill, aren't they? Don't tell you just stole them!"

"You said you wanted to be kept in the loop cowboy.  This is it.  If you don't like it there's the door....."  I sat there holding my breath, hoping he would not call my bluff.  I hated to admit it but I needed him, because frankly, I didn't know who I could count on anymore.

Woody just sat there for a moment.  I could tell he was debating his options.  Just when I thought he would reach for the door handle he said "There had better be some answers in there because I already feel the heat from Internal Affairs. I'm too fond of my ass to let them have a piece of it."

"They're just going to have to wait in line." Dad said looking up from the open files in his hand. "I'm not done with you from this morning Hoyt."

It was all I could do not to laugh out loud at the sudden paleness of Woody's face and the amused twinkle in Dad's eye. 

I turned and looked out of the rear window and noticed our escorts where still standing on the corner.  We needed to get out of there.  "Ah, Dad.....Let's take a closer look at those files somewhere else.  I'm afraid we may have company soon."  

Dad looked up and saw the police officers beginning to step toward the car.  He quickly stuffed the folders underneath the seat of the car.  "Yes, I think a cup of coffee is in order."  He started the car and soon we were pulling away from the morgue.  

As we drove, I realized I had left my vehicle at Police Plaza the night before.  I was pretty sure it would have been towed by now.

"I need to pick up my SUV, before they call Garret to come pick it up. He's got enough to deal with right now.  I bet it's in the impound lot by now."

Dad nodded and turned the car heading toward the impound lot.  Dad asked if Woody would mind picking it up for me.  The way he asked didn't sound like a question but more of a command.  Woody was only too willing to get out of the car.  I got out and followed him to the sidewalk.

"Dad's only messing with you, you know."

He only smiled and reached for my hands instead of holding them he begun to carefully roll up the cuffs of the sweatshirt I was wearing; making sure the sleeves were the right length for my shorter arms.  "I know he's only kidding, but he loves you very much.  You scared the hell out of him last night and I don't think he's quite over it.  Don't worry about your vehicle I know a guy that works here.  You go with your father.  I think he just needs to be alone with you for awhile."

I handed Woody the keys and made him promise that he'd come straight to the bar after he finished. 

I got back into the car and watched as Woody walked through the gate of the impound lot.

Dad just chuckled and pulled away from the curb "He's a good kid Jordan...for a cop.  He just worries too much about you.  I think last night took ten years off his life." 

I felt slightly guilty having been caught mooning over Woody's retreating figure, I turned and looked out at the oncoming traffic.  "He just said the same thing about you." 

"We all had a rough day yesterday Jordan....So it's coffee and then what?"  

 "I guess it's too much to expect that the IAD files are still at the bar."

He voice became suddenly serious. "Jordan, I meant do I take you home with me or are you going back over to Woody's? This madness needs to stop here and now.  There are two people dead in the last 24 hours. I can't chance that you'll be next."

"Dad, that's the point...everyone connected to this, is dying.  We don't know who could be next."   

Dad let out a deep sigh as we pulled up to the bar.  "I'm pretty sure the DA has cleaned the place out last night.  There really wasn't much in there that I haven't read a thousand times.  Except those phone records, but they were pretty standard...."

"Then I guess we are just going to have to piece it all together."

"I still don't like this Jordan...."

"I didn't ask you to.....  I just not only put myself on the line for those files, but my boss as well.  So, hand them over."  He reluctantly pulled them out from under the seat and handed them to me.  I could see he was hoping I would let it go.  But I was far from it. 

The short walk inside was silent.  Once inside, Dad began to start the coffee.  I grabbed a seat at he bar looking over at the pool table to verify that indeed the place was cleaned out.  The loud clang of the coffee being slammed into the coffee maker made me turn my attention back to my father.

"Dad, its only glass...take it easy."

 "Jordan these are dangerous people.  You could have been killed last night and now you are thinking of stepping feet first into this...mess.  I don't like it.  I don't like it at all."

"So, you've said repeatedly. I just want to know how Patrick Cahill wound up dead in front of the morgue and who tried to tamper with Malden's body." I wanted to add 'and how it all fits in this mystery' but I knew he would totally shut me then.

I began to look closely at both reports.  I was relieved to notice that the ballistics report on the slugs taken from Malden's body showed that it couldn't possibly be Dad's gun that shot him.  But the further I dug into the folder I noticed a copy of Dad's statement to the DA and a police evidence report that cleared him....not a piece of information usually found in a coroner's report.  I became curious. 

 I laughed out loud when I read the hand written note printed in small, hurried letters on the margin...

 _---I'm sorry about yesterday. I hope this helps make up for it...Nige---_

"What is it honey?"

"Nigel somehow got copies of the police and the DA's reports." 

 I flipped through both files quickly and noticed he had them for both cases. Nigel had even somehow scored a copy of the police report from this morning.     

"Wonderful" Dad said with a bit of sarcasm.  I started to reassure him but was stopped when the bell over the door rang as Woody stepped in.

Woody's eyes took note of the bar top strewn with papers.  He tossed me the keys and said "I hope this is it.  Because if I'm going to be spending the next 10 to 15 with a guy named Bubba I hope it's worth it." 

At least Woody was on board.  Hopefully Dad would come around. 

"Yes farm boy....it's worth it."  I show him the police report on Malden.  He looked shocked as he read the note from Nigel. 

"Damn, make that 15 to 20...Jordan, how did he get this stuff? No, I don't want to know.  But now that we have it where do we go from here?"

I looked through the papers on Cahill for a second time.  The information we needed had to be there; but it wasn't standing out.

"I know Nigel was trying to help but there is nothing here that we didn't already know.  It says here that Cahill died of a single shot to the head. Was he was probably killed before he got to the morgue.  Woody, take a look at this" I hand him the Cahill file. "Tell me if you can make hands or tails if they found Malden's car." 

He takes a look at the police report from that morning. It was a photocopy of the handwritten report. After a moment he tossed it on the counter.  "It doesn't say...at least we can assume it wasn't at the scene or they would have said so."

Dad set a freshly brewed cup of coffee in front of me and said "Whoever killed Cahill probably ditched the car earlier to get rid of any evidence."

I looked up to see Woody finish doctoring up his coffee.  He pulled the report closer to him and looked at it again. I could almost feel his mind working. "There are thousands of places to hide a car in this city not to mention the bay." He left his coffee sitting at the bar as he walked across the room with the report in his hand.   

While he paced with Cahill's file I took another look at Malden's.  Why was someone like Patrick Cahill, Malden's driver?  He was a powerful man.  Not someone who would be a lackey for a crooked cop.  There had to be a bigger story here.

"I'm at a loss.  Who killed Cahill? And why was he even there?  And on top of it, who would want to mess with Malden's body?"  I laid my head on the bar.  My headache was coming back.    

I heard Woody's voice standing next to me.  I looked up as he said "There are way too many variables here.... I think it's time to think outside the box."

Of course!  The Game.  It would work, it had to.   The look on Dad's face told he had come to the same conclusion.  Only he didn't seem to keen about it.

"No, no" Dad began to grab at the random papers on the bar.  "This has gone on far enough."  

"Please..." I begged him.

He looked at the papers clutched in his hands and said "If we do this, you leave it alone Jordan.  I won't take 'no' for an answer.  Kevin Cahill is a dangerous man.  He will take care of this in his own way..."

I didn't know what I was going to do with any of this.  But I told him what he wanted to hear.

Woody took a seat next to me and said "Where do we start?"   

"Let's start with Malden.  Woody you be Malden.   I'll be...damn...I'll be myself."

"Jordan" Dad said in half question and half warning.

"It's ok, I can handle it" I sat the file back down on the bar, I stared at a light fixture across the room.  It was hard to concentrate.  My memories of last night were like snapshots that someone had thrown in the air and they landed all mixed up.   When talking to Eddie last night it all felt fresh, but now it was like trying to remember something from years ago.  I had to fight to find a place to start.   

"After Malden told me that he had drugged me, I tried to fight it, but he kept on telling me that everything would be alright.  He only wanted to help James.  I couldn't help it.... I gave in."

"Did you then leave for your apartment?"

Things were getting clearer.  "No...  He....made a phone call...it was rushed. He was nervous.  He was talking about taking care of something."

"Who was he calling Jordan?" Dad asked 

"I don't know...he told whoever it was....to meet him downstairs."

"Patrick Cahill.  I was calling Cahill to tell him that we had a lead on James." I could see Woody had begun to get lost in his role. He stood up and began to pace. 

"He put me in the back of his car and we waited a few minutes...Malden throw my bag and cell phone into the front seat.  I couldn't reach it.  I needed to warn James.   Malden paced back and forth looking at his watch.  Patrick Cahill showed up.  They got in the front seat ...Cahill took the wheel.  They began to talk like I wasn't even there."

"What did they say?"

"They argued over James and....me.  Cahill said he wanted this all to end tonight.  It was all a trap.  Malden wasn't going to help James...."

".....I was going to deliver him to Cahill."  Woody finished my thought.  "I was going to bring James out to the car.  I had Jordan too... We could get rid of both of them in one step..."

"But that doesn't explain why Jordan was in the apartment." Dad bit out.  I could tell the direction this dialog had taken was getting to him.  I placed a hand on his to reassure him that I was alright.

"He knew James wouldn't just open the door to a stranger.  He used me to get James to let down his guard.  But James was not that naive.  He didn't open the door.  Malden took my keys and opened it himself....."

"James was hiding...somewhere inside.  I called out to him...somehow I had to get him to come out into the open. I told him that I was there to help.  I could get him safely out of the country." Woody said from the opposite side of the room.

"Yes, but I yelled out that it was a trick, James came out from the alcove anyway.... holding a gun, telling Malden to let me go."

"I pulled my gun and tried to tell him that you didn't know what you were talking about. You were not in your right mind...you were ill... I tried to get James to drop his gun...."  

"They argued. Malden took aim. But James fired.   He told me to run...that he would not let anything happen to me... I ran to the bathroom and tried to make myself as small as possible.  I think.... that's when I heard your voice Dad."

I looked up at my father who had been so silent for the last few minutes. He gripped my hand harder and looked me in the eye.  "Damn it Jordan, it was bad enough to walk into a scene in your apartment where James was holding a gun on a mortally injured Malden but now to know there was a killer waiting downstairs for you."

Woody sat back down next to me and picked up Malden's file.   He picked up his coffee and took a sip I could tell he was taking a break from the game.  "We know Malden was dead and James escaped out into the hallway.  He must have grabbed Malden's gun because here was no sign of it at the loft or on his body."   

I looked up to see Woody absent mindedly rub the back of his head.  Things were getting stretchy for me from that point on.     

"Why did Cahill leave the scene?" Dad asked. "If he were waiting for Malden to return with James and Jordan...."

"Maybe he heard the shots and just left." I said

"No...no" Woody said falling back into the routine. "Cahill was waiting to make sure his plan worked.  I wasn't there to bring James out. I could have easily just taken your keys and let myself in.  I didn't need you to go with me.  Dispatch knew I was taking you home.  I had an alibi to be in your apartment.  Cahill said he wanted both of you together....to wait for Max.   I was there to make sure all three of you were died.  To make it looked like Max and James killed each other and Jordan just got caught in the crossfire."   

"But how did you know to come to the apartment Dad?"

"I got a phone call....the caller said James was in your apartment and threatening you.  It had to be Patrick Cahill or, even Malden himself, who called....."

"But that still doesn't explain why he was found died in front of the morgue this morning!  Patrick Cahill was a powerful man...why did he even need to be there last night?  I'm sure there is someone in his father's organization that could have handled those details."  My frustration was adding to the headache I already had. 

We debated and theorized, never quite filling in the blanks.  The Game was getting us nowhere. 

When Dad turned on the lights, I looked up at the clock above the bar and noticed how much time had passed.  It felt like we had been at it for days but in actuality it had only been a couple of hours.  The skies were growing dark with an up coming storm.  It was almost like Mother Nature felt what I was feeling. We took a break to regroup and order some sandwiches form the deli down the street.  We adjourned to a back table with a couple of beers.  Dad had left the 'closed' sign upon the door. 

"Jordan I wish you would eat something"

"I'm fine Dad"

"When was the last time you ate?"

"You made me a bagel this morning..."

"Which you left on the counter" Woody added.

"I'll get something later....I promise...now where were we?"   

He had just finished rereading Cahill's file.  "Let's look at the details.  He was shot in the head, single shot to the forehead.  Not exactly execution style."

"I don't think Kevin Cahill would put a hit out on his own son..." I said.

"Someone else...Cahill has powerful enemies..."  Blackie Conroy came to mind.  For years each man waited for the other to make a mistake....

"But it would explain why the preliminary coroner's report states that Cahill was probably killed elsewhere and dumped at the site."

"No Jordan, you said the call Malden made to Cahill was rushed.  There was no way Cahill could know he was going to be sitting out in front of Jordan's building let alone some rival."

"But why was he even personally involved?"  

 "It was personal...it had to do with something that involved the three of you; Jeffers, Malden....and you Max." Woody looked up from his beer. "The missing two hundred thousand dollars....he was doing this as a vendetta for his father." 

 I wanted to ask what two hundred thousand as I watched Woody and Dad debate for a few minutes and then I picked up the police report on Cahill.

"And I bet this all ties into Jordan finding the car with Jeffers in the trunk.  It had always bothered me how a car can go for years and nobody checks the spare tire."

 "James told me that he hid the car in a warehouse....."

"I'd bet this bar that Cahill made sure that that body was left sitting right there to keep Malden in line.  Cahill used James killing Jeffers' to blackmail Malden ...he had a habit of.....keeping people in line through intimidation... especially through the people around them." 

 I was taken back.  I whispered to my father, "Is that how he kept you in line Dad?  With threats on me?"  He didn't say anything.  He didn't have to; the look on his face said it all.   I glanced over at Woody making sure he hadn't caught any of that.  I had a sinking feeling he would do something foolish. He would put on his red cape and try to make it alright....and frankly; I'm not worth that risk. 

"I wonder if Malden had become a liability to the organization in someway.  And they decided to get Jeffers out of mothballs....Jordan, who called you about finding the car."  Woody said looking up from the D.A.'s report on the Ford Fairlane.  

"I don't know.  He said he was the P.I. I hired last year...when I got the key." And then it hit me.... "Cahill set me up....You're right, somehow Malden had become dispensable. Cahill gathered all his ducks in a row.  He needed someone to set all of this into motion a way to clean up after Malden; someone outside of the organization...someone like a questionable cop's daughter.  And I jumped at it."

"Honey, it wasn't your fault...." 

I could feel my blood pressure begin to rise, but I couldn't think of the implications of that phone call right now.  We were so close to all the answers... I could feel it.  "I still don't understand how this all ties into Patrick Cahill being propped up in the front door of the morgue and Malden's body disturbed if they were not sending out a message to his father's organization?" 

"Maybe Malden figured out that to hit was on him and had someone in the wings to take care of Patrick Cahill, placing the killer at the scene.  Malden would later say that James and Cahill were working together and waiting in your apartment get rid of you and Max? But the plan back fired when Malden was shot. ....." 

Dad got that far away look on his face that usually signaled he was on to something.  "No Malden didn't have help....  He never realized that he was a target.... Patrick Cahill's killer just saw an opportunity to get rid of a body on his way to the morgue, or maybe even use it as a distraction to keep people busy while he went to the Crypt...to just view Malden's body....It was James.   He was at the morgue.  The security guard said the man he chased down the stairwell was dark haired.   James wanted some kind of closure." 

I was not hearing this. James could not kill a man in cold blood just for closure.

Woody asked the question that was on the tip of my tongue "So how does that explain why James would kill Cahill?  He could have created some other kind of distraction other then killing a man."

"Cahill was waiting outside for one of us to escape.  I bet James just walked right up to him.  Either James "forced" Cahill to take him away or Cahill offered to help him escape.  Cahill was driving somewhere to get rid of James.  James realized it was a trap and killed him."

No, this couldn't be.  James couldn't be involved with another murder.  This time it was a very powerful, deadly man's son.  He not only had the police after him, now he had the mob. And all just to protect me. And I just crouched in the bathroom letting it happen.  I had begun to feel myself implode.  I barely heard Woody when he spoke. 

"Where's James now?"

I couldn't take it anymore.  I stood quickly from the table.

"Jordan...Jordan what are you going to do?  Honey, don't do anything stupid....."  Dad said trying to grab my hand.  

I pulled my arm away. "No....."

I turned and ran out of the front door.  The rain had just begun. It was powerful and cold, but I didn't feel it. I had to get away.  I needed to think this out.  I reached into my pocket and felt the keys Woody had tossed me earlier.  When I heard him yelling my name I quickly ran to my SUV.  I didn't need to hear one of his sunny optimistic speeches at that moment.  I just needed some time alone.  I was already driving down the street when I saw him standing on the curb waving his arms wildly.  Part of me wanted to just turn around and find an escape in those arms but I couldn't drag him into my private hell.  I drove aimlessly through the city not quite knowing were I'd end up.  It would be so easy to confront Kevin Cahill.  I split my time between cursing him and berating my own stupidity. Was it true? Was Cahill behind everything? Could he even be behind my mother's death?  

Without thinking I pulled into a familiar gate.  It was oddly comforting driving through the twisted paths.  When I reached the end of the path I parked.  I stepped out into the pouring rain and walked over to my mother gravestone.  It was still light enough to read the engraving.  I carefully traced my finger through the letters over and over.   I needed to be close to her at that moment.  I was afraid of the dark, dangerous thoughts going through my head.  I just needed to shut them off.  I lie down next to the grave and let the rain wash away my tears.

I don't know how long I laid there waiting for a lightning bolt to strike me dead.  The rain never let up and pooled around me.  At first I heard the car pull up. I didn't open my eyes until I heard the passenger door of Dad's car open.  Woody was there calling my name.   I closed my eyes again wishing I could make him disappear.  But it didn't work. I should have never dragged him it to this; I should have never even dragged him into my life.  Within seconds he was kneeling on the ground next to me. 

"Jordan?  It's me, I'm right here...Jordan, please say something...."  


	6. Chapter 6

I don't know what I thought Jordan had done to herself when Max and I pulled up to the gates of the cemetery, rain beating against the windshield of Max's car. I looked up into the dark angry sky and promised God that I would have little room in my heart for forgiveness if something had happened to her. I promised it a second time as I caught sight of her still form lying drenched beside her mother's grave. I hurried toward her, slipping in the mud as I called out her name, bellowing over the heavy drops of rain. I saw the whites of her eyes as I got closer and a breath I hadn't known I was holding painfully escaped my lips. I pushed my wet, matted bangs out of my eyes as I knelt beside her. Her eyes were closed but I could tell she was still conscious.  
  
"Jordan? It's me, I'm right here.Jordan please say something."I pleaded taking her into my arms, my male instincts kicking in and doing their best to shelter her from the elements.  
  
Max made his way as quickly as possible over to us as Jordan was opening her eyes. Even under the mask of wetness the rain was providing her with I could tell that Jordan had been crying. Max stopped walking, showing some faith in my attempts to get her to speak. Jordan covered her eyes shamefully with one hand and moaned sadly through her fingers.  
  
"Jordan, talk to me...I'm here...talk to me please!" I said helplessly and she started to move.  
  
"Go to Hell, Hoyt!" She cried helplessly and tried to roll out of my embrace. I clutched her tightly, angrily. I was mad. I had thought she knew me better than she was showing at that moment. I pulled her up higher in my arms roughly and yelled into her ear, the salty taste of tears I hadn't realized my eyes had begun to shed mixing at my upper lip with the rain drops already there.  
  
"Damn it, Jordan!! I'm already IN Hell!!" I yelled angrily. "Don't you understand!?" I continued, all of my bottled up anger and frustration towards Jordan finally pouring out in a moment of truth. I clutched her to my chest and I could feel her weakly pounding at my arms with her fists. I wasn't sure if she was trying to fight off my words or me.  
  
"When you hurt I hurt! When you're upset it upsets ME! And...and ever since I've known you, you HAVE been trapped in this sort of Hell! And as you go through it, so do I! Don't you understand, Jordan?!" I said pulling her away from me and smoothing back her hair as lightning lit up the sky, giving us a glimpse of each other's sincerity.  
  
"It makes me just about sick to my stomach to see you go through this ALL the time! I hate that you won't ever talk to me about what's bothering you!." I said more calmly, but still loud enough to be heard over the rain.  
  
"I hate it when you lace on the charm and...and...and then USE me to get what you want!." Jordan was sitting up in my lap now her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her face inches from mine. I continued.  
  
"I hate that...that...everyone is supposed to just sit back, relax, and wait for you to come home after you disappear for months! I hate that you burden yourself with blame for things beyond your control." I said and looked at her mother's grave briefly before returning my attention to Jordan.  
  
"But most of all...I HATE that you don't trust me enough to let me know why you feel all of these things!!" I said with honest, passionate anger. Jordan looked up into my eyes finally and I felt her muscles slacken in my arms. She considered me for a moment before looking off into the rain at her father, then over at her mother's grave before she went completely limp.  
  
She passed out cold, the adrenaline she had been running on for the past few days finally spending it's last drop, and her body reacting to the exhaustion by shutting down. I tried to catch my breath as I pressed my pointer and middle fingers to her neck and nodded reassuringly to Max that I had indeed felt a pulse. He smiled at me sadly and then helped me carry Jordan to the car and lay her down in the back seat.  
  
I crawled into the back of the car with her and held her soaked, limp, cold body against my warm one. I smoothed her frizzing hair out of her face and rested my forehead against hers, my own exhaustion finally setting in. We pulled up out in front of my building and Max wordlessly assisted me in carrying Jordan to the elevator. We stood her up as best we could and Max kissed the top of Jordan's head before patting me on the shoulder and turning back towards the door. I called out to him softly,  
  
"Oh...ahhh...Max, I promise you I won't do an." He stopped my words with a raised hand in the air. I narrowed my eyes at him as I continued to prop Jordan up against my body. Max smiled and sighed as he looked sadly at what his daughter had become; what he had made her.  
  
"Hold her Woody. Hold her for as long as she'll allow it. And when she objects; hold her tighter." He said and then smiled sadly and pushed open the door. I watched him leave and only broke my line of vision when the elevator dinged to a stop and the doors opened slowly.  
  
I dragged her onto the elevator, feeling like a loyal buddy dragging a drunken friend in after a night of hard partying.  
  
I lifted her into my arms after unlocking my door and kicking it open as I tiredly carried her into the living room. I placed her down on the still as of yet unmade sofa bed and pulled off her dripping coat. I hung it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs then removed her soaked jeans, taking a moment to thank God that she was wearing bikini cut underwear today instead of a thong, and then removed her shirt, once again thankful that there was a red tank top on under it. I pulled the blankets up around her warmly.  
  
I watched to make sure she was going to stay asleep before I went to my bedroom and called Max. I was planning on leaving a message, but he picked up swiftly on the third ring.  
  
"Woody?" He said breathlessly.  
  
"Yeah, it's me. I just wanted to let you know she's still asleep. I think she'll be fine once she gets some sleep and I put some food in her tomorrow morning." I said and then promised to call early and update him on her condition.  
  
"You're a good guy Woody. Oh, and she's afraid of thunderstorms...so just don't leave her alone okay?" He said quietly and I promised not to, knowing that the thunder and lightning would not be the only things to disrupt Jordan's sleep that night. I hung up and sighed heavily, flopping down on my bed. I ran through the day's events in my head, and even thinking about it all made me more exhausted.  
  
I felt horrible for Jordan. I wasn't kidding when I told her I always felt her pain. She already blamed herself for too many things. And after the day's events, she added to the weight on her shoulders. She believed that if she hadn't been looking for her brother, than he never would have had to kill again. She had learned truths about Cahill's involvement in her mother's murder and had unintentionally provided Cahill with the means to dispose of maybe the only two people who actually knew what exactly took place on the day her mother had been murdered. And now, with one of those people dead, and the other less than likely to show up again, she may never know who killed her mother. And the questions would haunt her for the rest of her life. She would never be able to let it go. I sighed and mindlessly watched my ceiling fan spin as I made an effort to push off my pants.  
  
I undressed still laying on the bed, not the slightest bit concerned that Jordan would suddenly wake up and see me, and then stood slowly and pulled a pair of cotton boxers out of my top dresser drawer. I pulled them on and slipped out into the living room, a pillow from my bed under one bare arm, and gently slipped into bed with Jordan. It was a little easier to hold her this time. I spooned up behind her and she shifted unconsciously, laying her arms over mine around her waist. I kissed her at her temple gently and then let my own exhaustion finally consume me and fell asleep.  
  
Jordan..  
  
When I woke up in Woody's apartment once again, I wasn't surprised to find myself wrapped in his warm embrace. I shifted, unconsciously concerned that I was going against my decision NOT to run back into his arms. But then I remembered his words from the night before. He said that he was already in that private hell I mentioned. And as it turns out, I hadn't dragged him into it, he had willingly and knowingly followed me there. As I lay in his arms, my mind played over a conversation we had had the year before. Woody had told me he would go with me, wherever that may have been. I had been exasperated and told him he didn't even know where I was going to which he admitted that he was willing to take that risk. I was surprised; I hadn't realized just how much he cared about me. So of course, I shut down and told him that while he might have been willing, I was not.  
  
However, as I lay there with him, I thought I might let him follow me anywhere. I smiled sadly, sleepily, and stretched out along side him. I looked around the room and saw my clothes all hung carefully on the backs of chairs. I smiled tenderly and pulled myself up on my elbows, looking at Woody's face for the first time since the night before. His lips were parted and his bangs were slightly curled around the frame of his face from the rain. It was helpful to me because my thoughts of how he looked gradually changed from sexy to cute as I gently played with the tips of his bangs. He stirred and rolled over, the sheets falling further down his body and giving me a better view of his tight, smooth, freckled skin. He wrapped his arms around his pillow and the change of position caused a dimple to form in each shoulder. I looked him over once and wolf whistled to myself before standing from the bed slowly and heading to the kitchen.  
  
When Woody woke a few minutes later, he strolled into the kitchen, having put on a pair of jeans, and smiled at me as he pulled a carton of orange juice out of his fridge. I smiled sadly back and he came to sit across from me at the table.  
  
"Woody...I'm so sor.." I began to explain about my mental state the night before but he just shook his head slowly and I stopped talking.  
  
"I told you, Jordan," he said paying more attention to the orange juice cap then it deserved, "I'm willing to follow you anywhere...just so long as you try and trust me." He said and I sighed heavily, taking the carton from him and taking a big swig of it. I set it back down and nodded.  
  
"It's...never been a matter of trust, Woody. You are one of the most loyal people I have ever met. It's just...well...you've seen how everyone at work is with me. I drive them nuts 99% of the time. They tip toe around me...like...like I'm a glass plate hanging on the wall of airport control tower." I said and Woody seemed to not get the allusion at first, and then when it came to him, he just nodded silently and let me continue.  
  
"I've driven Garrett half mad, Nigel and Bug have almost lost their jobs for me...my dad tries to keep me in this protected little bubble where I can never get hurt, and...and...now, I may have lost any chance I might have had at getting to know my brother because I went off the deep end again and almost got him killed, then inadvertently forced him to have to kill again. I've ruined the lives of just about everyone I care about." I said hopelessly and picked up the carton taking another swig and finding myself only mildly disappointed when I remembered it was like, 9 AM and there was definitely no booze in the juice.  
  
To be continued.. 


	7. Chapter 7

"Jordan, you think I don't know that?  Did you hear what I told you last night?"

I just looked at him, sadly.  Not wanting to confirm or deny.  All these emotions I was being swamped with were overwhelming.  They would be for a "normal" person, as we all know I'm about as far from "normal" as you can get.

"I told you last night that I'll follow you to the ends of the earth, the depths of hell, whatever it takes.  Jordan, I love you and I want to be with you.  But I don't know how to make you understand that."

"Oh Woody."  I did understand.  Too well.  But it was too big of a risk.  The last time I let myself fall in love with someone. . .  Still, whenever I thought about my feelings for Woody, Dr. Lisa Fromer's words echoed in my head. . . "Have you ever been in love? . . .  I don't mean someone like your dog or your parents.  I mean someone who you find, out of dumb luck, who makes your life everything you never thought it would be."  But I couldn't. . .

"What Jordan?  What?  Talk to me.  Let me in.  Please."  His eyes were so sincere.  So filled with love.  So. . .  Enough to make me panic.  I needed to get away.  This was too much togetherness too soon.

"Woody, I don't mean anything bad by this, but I really need some space right now.  A lot of stuff has happened and. . ."

"You need space?  Fine.  No one's keeping you here."  He looked straight at me.  If this was going to be a staring contest, it was one he'd soon lose.  He did.  As he blinked and looked away I made my request.

"Can I use your phone?"

"Why?"

"I want to call the station and see if I can get back into my apartment."

"Fine."  He tossed the cordless phone at me as he turned and stalked out of the room.  "I'm going to get a shower."

Jordan, Jordan, Jordan what the hell are you doing?  The boy's crazy about you and you know you love him.  But. . .  This internal dialogue was going to drive me insane ~ assuming I wasn't already there.  I had a guy who loved me enough to risk a thunderstorm to bring me in from the rain.  Last night, lying there on Mom's grave, I'd begged and pleaded with her for help.  The kinds of things I would have asked her if she was still alive.

Why wasn't Mom listening to me?  I couldn't hear her voice anymore, no matter how hard I tried to find it.  Didn't she know I needed her.  Why did she have to go and get herself. . .

"Detective Winslow."  Somewhere in the midst of my mental diatribe I had dialed Eddie's direct line, fingers going on autopilot.

"Eddie, hey."

"Jordan!  Are you ok? Where are you?  I mean. . ."

"I'm fine.  I've been staying with. . .a friend.  But I'm ready to go home.  Do you know if. . ."

"Let me go check.  Hang on sweetie."

Ok, only Eddie can call me that and not have me freak out.  Why's that?  Maybe because I know that it would never work "that way" between us.  But at the same time, I know that he'd do whatever he needed to in order to keep me safe ~ and sane.

"Jordan?"

"Yeah?"

"It's ready.  Just need an officer to officially remove the tape.  And I can do that if you'd like."

"That would be great, Eddie.  Thanks.  I think Dad has my SUV at his place, but. . ."

"What's Woody's address?  I can come get you."

"How did you. . .?  Never mind.  I'm sure he can bring me to the station when he comes in."

"Jordan, if you're that ready to go home, you're on the verge of doing something you're going to regret. . .'maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon, and for the rest of your life.'"

"Ok, ok.  Don't give me the whole movie."  I laughed at him remembering the revival showing I'd dragged him and Dad to so many years ago.  Well, I dragged Dad and Dad made his new partner come along in some weird "initiation rite" he concocted.  "When can you be here?"  I rattled off Woody's address.

"Give me half an hour."

"Ok.  I'll see you then.  Thanks Eddie."  I hung up the phone and got the distinct impression I was being watched.  I turned and saw Woody standing in the doorway, a towel wrapped around him and his hair dripping in his eyes.  If I wasn't so sick of being cooped up and away from my own space. . .

"You called Eddie Winslow?"

"I need someone to get me back into my apartment."

"Why him?"

"Why not, Woody?  He already knows the history."

"Which is exactly why I asked why him."

"Are you trying to pick a fight with me?  Because I'm really not emotionally up to it right now.  I called a friend.  A friend, Woody.  That's it."  I just looked at him, half angry, half pleading.

"Fine.  Whatever.  I'll get my key later."  He turned and walked into his room to get dressed.  A few minutes later he strode out and moved towards the door.  He took a quick look back at me.

"Woody?  Thanks for letting me stay here.  For taking care of me.  For. . ."

"It's all I live for Jordan."  He muttered under his breath so I almost didn't hear it.  He turned back to me and spoke a little louder, "Oh, would you at least eat some cereal so I can tell Max that you did eat?"

"I hate cereal.  But I'll have a slice of toast with peanut butter?"

"Fine."  He motioned towards the pantry and headed out the door.  "I'll catch up with you later.  Bye Jordan."

Why did that "bye" have more of a sound of finality than I wanted to hear?  Oh well, no time to worry about that now.  I looked around the apartment.  God it was messy.  Mine's not the neatest thing in the world, but still. . .

I pulled the sheets off the sofa bed and threw them in my bag.  The least I could do was take them to Dad's and wash them.  Sadly, the only other shirt Dad had found was a ratty old t-shirt left over from some college party, so I decided to put the tank top back on.  Just as I was finishing my straightening, there was a knock on the door.  A quick check through the peep hole confirmed that it was my ride back to my place.  I opened the door quickly.

"Hey Eddie.  Come on in.  I'm almost ready."

He looked at my clothes, somewhat rumpled from the night before.  "I know that the storm from last night is over ~ it's bright and sunny out there ~ but it is still a little cool.  Will you. . .?"

I looked around the room.  I should really wash the sweatshirt as well.  "I'll borrow this.  It needs washing anyway."  I pulled it over my head, noting that the sleeves were still in the position Woody rolled them to so they would fit.  I took a look around the apartment.  Looked ok.  "Ok, I'm ready to go."

We rode to my loft making general small talk.  I could tell Eddie was trying his best to make sure I was ok without actually asking me.

"Eddie?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"For what, Jordan?"

"For picking me up.  For taking care of me that night.  For. . .for being my friend."

"Jordan, it's not a problem.  I'm glad that you do consider me a friend."  He looked over at me and smiled.  To my surprise I smiled back.  "Alright, 227 Pearl Street.  I do believe we're here."  Great.  Home sweet home.  I hoped it was anyway.

We took the elevator up to the third floor.  I was surprised to find myself tensing up as we got closer to my door.  By the time we got there, I was fighting to control my breathing.  Eddie sensed it too.

"Jordan?  Are you ok?  Is it too soon to be back here?"

"No, no I'm ready to come home.  I just. . .  Eddie, I know that you're only here to remove the tape 'officially,' but would you mind coming inside with me?"

"Not a problem.  We need to make sure that nothing was damaged and nothing related to the case was removed.  But even if there wasn't that I'd go with you."  He slowly pulled the tape from the doorframe, making sure not to remove and paint with it. Then he handed me the key.  My hand trembling, I reached out towards the lock and managed to slide the key in and turn it.  

I don't know what I expected to find when I opened the door, but things were about as normal as they could be.  Other than the remnants of a blood stain in the middle of the floor there were no reminders of the horrors that took place in the loft just a few nights before.

"Looks like things are in order."  Eddie was looking around.  "I think they tried to get rid of that stain.  To really get rid of it, you'll probably have to sand the whole thing."

"Yeah.  Or just get a nice area rug to throw over it."  I was trying to laugh over the feelings of nausea and confusion and fear that were beginning to wash over me.  I had to keep up a good face ~ that old Cavanaugh game face I'd learned all too well.

"Ok, does it look like things are ok?"  Eddie guided me over the threshold and into the apartment.  I looked around.  Nothing seemed out of place or missing.

"Yeah, looks like things are fine.  Thanks Eddie."  I turned towards him to shake his hand, but he looked at me, concern surging through his eyes.

"Are you sure?  I can always stay. . .  Or call Max.  Or Woody."

"No, no.  I think Woody and I have had about enough of each other these past few days.  And I don't want Dad to have to come back here until he's ready."

"Are you ready to be here, Jordan?"  I knew Eddie meant well, but. . .

"I'll be fine.  Thanks."  Eddie just looked at me and nodded his head.

"Alright.  If you need anything else. . ."  He set the key on the counter that doubled as my table.

"I'll give you a call.  Thanks again Eddie.  I really appreciate it."  I watched him move towards the door.  Part of me was screaming inside for him to stay, that I didn't want to be alone, but the other part, that Jordan that the world saw, was trying to convince all of me that I was ok.  That I could do it on my own. With one look back, Eddie stepped out and closed my door.

I stood there for a minute, just looking around.  Finally it got to be too much and a primal scream escaped my lips.

Before I knew what was happening, the door burst open and Eddie ran in, sweeping me into a strong, secure embrace.

"Jordan, it's ok.  I'm here.  Talk to me Jordan.  I know you're not talking to Woody and probably not to Max, but. . .  Hell, Jordan.  You need to talk with someone.  I'm willing to listen.  Without all the entanglements everyone else seems to provide for you."

It felt so good to have someone hold me like that.  Totally different from Woody.  With Woody it was great and I felt safe, but it was a different safe.  It was a safe that came from being held by someone who was letting himself crawl down all the way into the mud hole that was my private hell.  I wasn't sure he'd know how to get us both out. 

With Eddie, it was different.  He would get into the mud hole with me, but he was keeping a firm grip on a root attached to the edge.  A root called non-emotional attachment.  Or something like that.  I never really paid attention to Stiles' psycho babble.

I looked up at Eddie.  "You sure you want to go there?"

"If I didn't I wouldn't have waited outside for the breakdown I sensed was coming."

"Oh.  Ok."  So that was how he came in so quickly.  And why he didn't lock the door.  Was I that transparent after all these years I thought I was hiding things so well?  

I moved towards my couch and Eddie followed.  We sat down, but I wasn't sure where to start. Finally Eddie reached over and took my chin in his hand, gently pulling my face up towards his, but I knew it wasn't for a kiss.

"Jordan, look at me."  Eddie's voice was gentle and I slowly raised my eyes to meet his.  "I know that no one can begin to understand all you've been through.  I know that.  Not with your mother, not with your father, not with everything that's happened over the past few days, not with anything.  Only you know that.  And I'm sure Woody's told you that you don't have to go through it alone. . ."  I chuckled at how well Eddie seemed to know Woody, especially for a couple of guys who really didn't work together.  "But that's true.  If it's too scary to talk with someone you care about as much as you do Woody. . ."

"Now wait a minute."  I was indignant.

"Jordan, calm down.  It's ok.  Yeah, at one time I would. . .but that's a moot point.  I just mean that maybe talking to someone who's a little more removed from the situation and not so emotionally involved could be a good thing."

"You think so?"

"I know so.  Jordan, things haven't always been easy for me.  You don't know this, but after everything with Max. . .I went through a really rough period.  Almost quit the force."

"What?"

"Yeah.  I knew in my heart that I'd done the right thing.  Like I told you, Max was a danger to himself and everyone else at that time.  But it was still hard.  I'd ratted out my partner.  And I'd broken his daughter's heart in the process.  And blown any chance I might have had with her."

"Eddie, I. . ."

"Jordan, it's ok.  I know Max would never have let me near you anyway."

"I didn't mean just that.  I never knew about the stuff after Dad. . ."

"It's ok now.  I'm over it.  A friend of mine, totally neutral on the subject, sat me down and made me get everything out ~ a few years later.  I didn't realize just how much I'd been holding back and in for all that time.  It took a safe space for me to do that.  And Jordan, I'm willing to be that safe space for you ~ no strings attached."

I just looked at him for a minute, trying to figure everything out.  I felt tears pushing at my eyes when I heard, really heard my mother's voice ~ that voice I'd been trying to remember for 23 years and needed to hear so badly.  "It's ok, baby.  You can let me go.  I'll always be with you, but you don't need to hold on so hard."  I felt a couple of rogue tears slip over my eyelashes and slide down my cheek.  Eddie didn't flinch.  Just reached out and took my hand in his.

Why was it so easy for Eddie to get through to me?  Maybe because he'd seen me ~ and Dad ~ at our worst?  That old trial by fire stuff?  Maybe because I knew that he really did know just how much it really does take for me to trust someone?  I thought Woody got it, but he hadn't been there when. . .  

I didn't think of it as cheating because first of all, nothing was going to happen between me and Eddie and second of all, nothing had happened between me and Woody ~ at least not that way.  But Eddie had been there when Dad. . .  He knew what it was for me to break down.  He'd seen me when I was fired.  He knew what a mess I could be.

Looking at him sitting across from me, I felt nothing other than a deep platonic love and respect for him.  All he was required to do was to go with me to officially remove the police tape from the door.  No one said he had to talk with me, to listen.  To give me advice.  It was too much.  All the emotions I'd tried so hard to hold in check when anyone else was around ~ my breakdown in the graveyard not withstanding and since no one was there when it started I hardly count it ~ and it was Eddie who broke the dam.  

His kindness ~ this person I'd hated for so many years because I held him responsible for Dad's losing his job was actually being kind to me.  I didn't deserve his kindness.  Yeah, we'd formed a kind of semi-easy truce before Woody was even in the picture.  But still.  I felt the dam beginning to crack.  Maybe it's because Eddie was safe ~ there was no romantic attachment there.  I just don't know. . .

I felt the hot tears increase and spill over my eyelashes and splash onto my cheeks in big, gut-wrenching sobs.  Sobs like I'd never cried in my whole life, not even when Mom died.  Eddie leaned over from his side of the couch to hold me as my body shook with my cries stored up for so many years.  Tears for Mom.  For Dad.  For James.  For Woody, who could never fully understand, no matter what he thought.  For myself.

"It's ok, Jordan.  Cry all you need to."  Eddie stroked my hair, but it was completely non-romantic.  He was being a true friend, comforting me when I felt like I had nowhere else to turn.  He was unconnected from the emotions of the past couple of days ~ hell, largely the past 23 years ~ and that made him safe.  Like a midwife helping a woman give birth to a child, Eddie helped me release the emotions I'd held inside for way too long.

I don't know how long we sat there like that, Eddie holding me and encouraging me to get out all the shit I needed to get out of my emotional system.  Gradually my sobs turned to cries, then to whimpers, and then to a few silent tears.  It felt so totally right to be communicating with Eddie this way ~ no illusions of love or anything else.  He understood, probably even before I did, that my heart had already been stolen by someone else, and he asked nothing of me other than to just let him help me, let him be there.

Neither of us heard the keys in the locks on my door or the big red door creak open.  We only heard Woody's wounded voice.  "Well, maybe I'm not needed here after all."


	8. Chapter 8

…I was so cried out and drained that I could barely respond to the hurt so plainly displayed on Woody's face. Eddie swiftly pulled his arms from around my body and I sat up on the couch.

"Woody…I…we…" I said sniffling as I stood slowly from the couch and moved towards him. Eddie stood and laid a hand reassuringly on my shoulder. 

"Hey, man, look…nothing is going on here…Jordan just needed to vent and…" Woody cut him off with a betrayed look. 

"No, it's my fault…I guess I was wrong about some things." He said looking me angrily in the eyes, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he grinded his teeth.

Now I was the one that felt betrayed. I looked into Woody's eyes, my body nearly trembling with anger and then calmly took Eddie by the arm and led him to the door. I guided us around Woody like he wasn't even there. He turned with a huff to watch us, only maybe a foot and a half between us all. I stood up on my tiptoes and kissed Eddie on the cheek, my arms wrapped around his neck. 

"Thanks, Eddie…I really appreciate you being here for me…" I said and Eddie smiled nervously and nodded his head. He chanced a glance towards Woody and then nodded a quick good-bye. Woody gave him a steady glare in response.

I smiled once more at Eddie as he left and I gently closed the door, and remained facing it for a second, sighing and trying to get my wits about me. Then I turned slowly around, the hot, mad tears I was trying desperately to hold back, twinkling just behind my eyelids. 

"You stupid son of a bitch!" I said angrily and Woody's eyes widened in shock of my turning this on him. 

"ME!? You're the one who…who said you needed SPACE and then I come here and SPACE seems to be the last thing on your mind!" he yelled, stepping closer as if daring me to tell him to back off. Imagine his surprise when instead of telling him to back off, I stepped forward and smacked him across the face. 

His eyes were closed as his head snapped to the side and he sighed angrily before turning back to me. He just stared at me, the red imprint of my right hand beginning to show on his cheek. He opened his mouth and with a scary coolness asked, "What the hell was that for?" 

The tears finally began to spill over my eyes, and the fear and anger still building in my gut, caused me to continue my mild tremors. I looked him right in the eye and slowly, softly said, "Don't you EVER say that again." 

Woody narrowed his eyes at me, not sure which particular insult I was referring to. I understood his confusion and decided to clear it up as easily and plainly as I could. 

"Do you know how hard it is for me to even LET myself feel the things I feel for you on a conscious level?!" I asked sincerely and Woody listened carefully. "What you just said to us, that you THINK you might have been wrong about some things…that…that hurt me more than I think you will ever understand." I said and Woody seemed to have missed the point and continued in his tirade. 

"You're right!! I WON'T ever understand!…Not if every time I get close to you and try to learn something about you…you…you shut me out and say you need space! And, well, what would you have thought, if you were me…and…and you just walked through that door and saw what I saw?" He said and I clenched my own jaw a few times. I ignored him this time and continued with what I was saying.

"You wanna know something about me? I'll tell you something…even if I mistakenly thought you knew it already…What you just said, it almost made me question what we have…what is developing between us…" I said nearly pleading with him to understand now. He narrowed his eyes at me, the color returning to normal in his face now. 

"And what's that?" He asked and I knew he didn't mean that he didn't understand, he just wanted to hear ME say it. 

I sighed and took another step toward him. "We…slept together Woody." I said and he looked confused again. 

"Yeah…but…but not like THAT…I mean we…" I cut him off, taking another small step towards him. 

"Yeah, but it was the way I needed it to be. And you understood that…and you understand that now…" I said and laid my hand against his cheek softly, on top of where I had just smacked him. "And that's why it hurts me that you would EVER question my commitment to where this relationship…as new as it is…is going." 

Woody looked at me for a long second, his eyes searching mine. He looked like he might almost believe me. Then he shook his head away from my palm and looked off across the room. 

"But you and Winslow…you were…" he began frustrated and I cut him off. 

"Woody, you have absolutely nothing to worry about!" I said angrily, willing him to understand that romantic love just wasn't a part of mine and Eddie's relationship. Woody shook his head. 

"And how am I supposed to believe that, Jordan?! How the HELL do you expect me to believe that nothing is going on between you two when I came here and he's HOLDING you?!" He said irritably, the dots not yet connected enough to let him be able to see the picture they made. 

"You wanna know?" I asked just as irritated. Woody stepped forward, hands on his hips expectantly. 

"Yeah, I REALLY wanna know." He said obnoxiously. 

"Oh okay…"I said my voice shaking with fear of what I was about to say. Woody cut me off, having to add his last two cents. 

"Uh-huh…please tell me, I'm so very eager to hear how you love Eddie…but it's really just a brother-sister kind of love and…" I cut him off this time, having to say what I wanted to say before it was too late. 

"It's because I'm not IN love with him you horse's ass. I'm in love with you!" I said as a hot tear sped down my cheek as a weight on my heart I'd been carrying for a long time was finally lifted. 

Woody stood there; hands still on his hips, albeit awkwardly, trying to ease out of his defensive posture with some grace, and said nothing at first. After about 10 seconds of awkward silence between us, he squeaked out only one word.

"Oh." He looked down at his feet, ashamed on a level as a detective for not having discovered this sooner. 'Damn, I 'm good', ran through my head as I watched Woody's embarrassment. He looked up again and then ran a hand nervously through his hair. 

"I'm sorry Jordan." He said finally offering me a weak smile. "I never meant to make you question you're feelings it's just…I…I feel the same way, and it's never been real easy to read you…I mean, what with the talk of walls, and…and…and getting hurt…I never expected that you felt the same way as I did. I'm so sorry." He said and stepped forward, wrapping his arms reassuringly around me. I laid my head against his chest.

After a few seconds I meekly said, "I'm sorry I slapped you." And chuckled through my tears. Woody sighed heavily and rubbed my back. 

"Aww….Sweetie," Woody said and rested his chin on the top of my head. "No you're not." He said and I thought for a minute before burying my head in his chest, wishing that I could sleep in his arms again tonight, but knowing that we did need a night apart to really think out where we want to go with our relationship as well as all we had been through in the past few days. 

I let a light laugh escape my lips and meekly admitted, "I know." 

To which Woody chuckled harder and a large, gentle hand petted the length of my hair. Woody sighed. 

"Jordan?" he said and I raised my head a little waiting for him to respond, "Since we're being honest…your floor looks like hell." He said and I pulled back, grimacing at the ugly dark stain in my floor. 

"Yeah…I know…what do you think I should do about it?" I asked and Woody suggested we go to the hardware store and pick up some staining to cover it. 

"Sounds good to me," I said taking his hand as I picked up my keys and purse. Woody followed me dutifully as we left the apartment. "Cause I could use a new deadbolt…" I said cutting my eyes at Woody. He decided to play along, willing to do anything to lighten the mood. 

"Really?" he asked teasingly and I nodded. 

"Yeah…" I said grabbing his sweatshirt off the couch and pulling it on as we left. "One of those heroic types kicked the door in the other day to save me and broke the old one." I said and Woody smiled, changing the subject by tugging on the corner of his sweatshirt. 

"So…you plan on keepin' this?" he asked and I shrugged my shoulders. I looked over at a blank spot on the end table next to my couch and took silent notice that the picture of mom and myself taken right before she was killed was missing from my collection. I shrugged it off, making a mental note to deal with it later.

"If you don't mind." I said and he shook his head. 

"Sleeves are…probably all stretched out anyway…" he said smiling as he turned off the light and pulled the door tightly shut behind us and recaptured my hand with his own again. 


	9. Chapter 9

When we returned from the store, I opened the door of my apartment and stood there as Woody struggled with all his supplies.  
  
"Are you sure you don't need any help?" I asked as he shuffled around the various bags.  
  
"No, no I'm fine... you could get out of the way though."  
  
I jumped to one side when I realized I was standing in the middle of the doorway.  
  
"I still don't think we need all this." He hustled into the room and deposited everything on the counter.  
  
"We've been through this Jordan..." He wasn't looking at me, because he was standing there with his hands on his hips studying the blood stain on my floor like it was something that had just crawled out of his nightmares. Maybe it had.  
  
I picked up the belt sander that he had just laid on the countertop. I told him while we were at the store a good strong mixture of ammonia and water would probably lift the blood right up, but he was dead set on renting the sander, just in case. I began to unpack the shopping sacks one by one. Sandpaper, paint brushes, cleaning fluid, wood stain, floor wax, something called "Zar"......  
  
"Jordan?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I just asked if you could get me a bucket of water....are you ok? We can do this later if you want."  
  
I smiled sadly at the concerned look on his face. Funny, there was a new worry line between his eyes that I hadn't noticed before.  
  
"No, the sooner we get this started you can install the new deadbolt."  
  
I held the packaged lock up with a smirk. By the look on his face I could tell he was remembering the...discussion we had earlier at the hardware store. As soon as we had arrived at the store he led me directly over to the home security systems. He was adamant that I get one. I didn't see the need when a new dead bolt would suffice. He just said it was necessary. I took one look at the display and realized even with all my schooling I would still need a degree in engineering to learn how to operate one of the stupid things. We grudgingly compromised; I would think about it and he would buy the best lock system in the store.  
  
I found my mop bucket under the sink and filled it. Before I took it over to him I made a detour to the refrigerator and grabbed a couple bottles of water. I almost grabbed a couple of beers instead, thinking we would need a little fortification for our first home improvement project together, but I left those for an emergency.  
  
The emergency didn't take long...  
  
Four hours and two beers later Woody pointed a frustrated finger at the door and kicked me out. I figured it as a good time to go for a walk. Sometimes togetherness can be overrated, especially when power tools are involved. I was halfway out the building when I pulled out Woody's cell phone I had palmed from the counter. Mine was still missing with Malden's car. I wanted to call Garrett, without Woody standing over my shoulder. I dialed Garrett's line.  
  
"Woody... sorry, I just got your messages about a half-hour ago. Has today been any better for ........"  
  
"Me?...." I cut him off. At first I wondered how Garrett recognized it was Woody's cell phone number on his caller ID. As far as I knew Woody had never called Garrett's direct line. But apparently Woody had been talking to him and by the sounds of it, with quite some frequently, over the last few days. It made me wonder what all I had missed.  
  
"Jordan!" he choked out. I had to smile at his ill at ease. He was quick to regroup. "It's good to hear your voice Jordan." Hearing his reminded me that there still was a world out there. I should have called him yesterday to thank him for giving me those reports.  
  
"Garrett, I wanted to say thank you..."  
  
"No need, Jordan. I knew Nigel was going to get those reports to you somehow anyway. I was just saving myself the trouble of being the last to know."  
  
I laughed to myself as I felt eyes begin to water up. I didn't think I could possibly have any tears left. I squeezed my eyes tight to make them go away. I was cried out for awhile, even if they were just happy tears of relief.  
  
"Hey, has Walcott called off her dogs yet? Can I come back to work?"  
  
The line was silent for a minute I thought maybe we had been disconnected.  
  
"Are you sure Jordan? If you need more t..."  
  
"Yeah, I'm sure."  
  
Knowing Garrett I could see him searching for an excuse to keep me out of there. Apparently Malden and Cahill were still in the building...Yes, it bothered me, but not as much as I thought it would have.  
  
"....Well?"  
  
I felt him give up and lean back in his chair. "Fine. We could use your help. Things have been busy here, being short handed."  
  
"Great, I'll see you first thing!"  
  
"See you in the morning Jordan...and Jordan?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Welcome back." As I hung up I knew he realized I was over the worst of it...even though I was just figuring out that fact for myself.  
  
When I returned awhile later, Woody was finishing up installing the new lock. He proudly showed me his work.  
  
"See, cowboy, you don't even need to memorize a code."  
  
With a long suffering sigh he handed me the keys. I tossed them up and down in my hand. As lay landed in my palm I noticed that there was two identical keys lying there. I pull one of the keys off the ring and tossed it to him. He caught it in midair with a curious look on his face.  
  
"So you don't have to kick my door in again." I felt a tingling in my stomach as his face changed. His eyes became all dark and smoky. I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around him and held him close. He laid his cheek on the top of my head. I stood there listening to his heartbeat. So sure, so strong, so assuasive...calming. Twelve hours ago this closeness, this intimacy, had sent me running for the hills. Now all I wanted to do was relish in it.  
  
"Jordan?"  
  
"...humm?"  
  
"I still have to finish up here...."  
  
I turned away from him my feet walking on air.  
  
"Watch out Jordan the floor's still wet."  
  
I stumbled slightly as I stopped myself from stepping into the middle of the newly refinished area on my floor. I looked down at it, amazed that for a second that I had almost forgot about it even being there. Almost. It had a lighter, newer finish that didn't quite blend in with the rest of the floor. Woody stepped up in back of me and sat heavily on the stool next to the counter.  
  
"It will do for now but we're going to have to refinish the whole thing to get it the entire floor to match..." he sounded drained.  
  
I looked over at him; his jaw twitched. I knew he was remembering why the stain was there in the first place. I laid my hand on his cheek to get his attention on me.  
  
"It'll be fine." When he finally nodded in agreement I stepped around the wide, sticky spot and grabbed a couple of beers out of the refrigerator and handed him one and jumped up on the countertop to sit next to him. Playing with the label on my bottle I watched as he took a drink out of his.... his eyes constantly darted at the floor.  
  
I cleared my throat and said, "By the way, I talked to Garrett today. You've been keeping him posted..." He looked at me shocked for a moment and then he just nodded. "Through all of this you've been quietly keeping everything under control, haven't you?"  
  
"Some control." he muttered into his bottle before he set it down on the counter.  
  
My eyebrows shot up in question. He was looking over at the front door. At first I thought he was thinking about our argument over Eddie. But then it dawned on me. I was so worried about how my father, hell.... about how I would handle coming back here.  
  
But I never once thought about how Woody would take it.  
  
He had been so busy the last few days keeping me sane and putting out all the little fires in our path, he hadn't had a chance to deal with all this himself. That was the reason he wanted the security system and the reason he ground a good half an inch off my hardwood floor. The ghosts in the room were now his.  
  
I put my hand on his shoulder. He reached up and covered it with his own.  
  
"You're an imposter, you know." I whispered.  
  
His head snapped up to look at me. "What?"  
  
"That whole country bumpkin, boy scout routine.... It's all an act you spring on unsuspecting people."  
  
He let out a self-conscience chuckle "What makes you say that?"  
  
"That big 'S' you have tattooed across your chest. It bleeds through your shirt every once in a while."  
  
"You won't tell anyone will you?" He said with a smile that never quite reached his eyes.  
  
"Your secret is safe with me." I turned my hand to interweave our fingers. It was time for me to be the strong one; to be the one to pull us out to safety. He must have realized it because he began to speak. At first the words were hollow, like he was talking about someone else...  
  
But soon the flood gates opened.  
  
"....When I heard the shots I panicked I kicked open the door and Max was standing over Malden. I'm a cop damn it and I didn't know what to do........"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Meanwhile....  
  
Eddie---  
  
I normally don't drink. But the last few days could drive a man to find an escape in the bottom of a bottle. As it was, I felt like a man who has fallen off the wagon walking into Max's Place. I don't venture there as often as I probably could. The invitation has always been there...but the emotional baggage is an addiction I could never seem to shake no matter what I tell myself or others.  
  
I sat down at the bar and acknowledged Max's welcome. I ordered a whiskey. I needed to warm a glass of it in my hands. Funny, I never developed the taste for it until after I met her. The color haunting because it matches her eyes so well. I passed the next few minutes talking to the man whose life I turned inside out all because of some self-centered notion of righteousness. As he clapped my shoulder and walked away, I thought about how close I came today. It would have been so easy to forget about Max, about Hoyt, about the very reason why I should remain distanced. How did I put it? 'Without all the entanglements everyone else seems to provide for you.' I said it more for my own benefit than hers... Because, it was all right there in those beautiful whiskey colored eyes. That look ...THE look... That look I had waited for from the first time I saw her face.  
  
Only the look wasn't there because of me.  
  
I knew then, without a shadow of a doubt she was going to remain only an allusive dream. Hoyt's a lucky man. I just hope he realized how lucky. I tossed the drink back relishing in the feel of the burn in the back of my throat. Its warmth started in my gut and spread upwards and outwards making me well aware of its presence. I couldn't help but smile at the irony. It was time to get myself seated firmly back on the wagon. I wrapped my hands around the glass one more time before I set it back on the bar. It was time to go. To carry on as usual I threw a twenty on the bar as I waved good night to Max. I walked out the door and looked at my watch ...ten after eight. I could always go back to the office, but maybe not. Tomorrow was going to be just another day. Hopefully, a quieter one.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Garrett---  
  
I looked at my watch...I had twenty minutes before the funeral home came for Patrick Cahill's body. Captain Malden's body was picked up a few hours ago. The quicker they were all out of here the more comfortable I would feel. Jordan was coming back to work tomorrow and frankly I didn't want her to have to deal with either of them. I knew at this point I had had my fill of them.  
  
What a mess. What a colossal mess.  
  
There was something more to these murders then meets the eye. Anyone could see that. Just two hours ago on the six o'clock news the police announced that they believed the murders were totally unrelated. Bullshit. Cahill was murdered with Malden's own service pistol! But somehow the evidence mysteriously disappeared in transit to the DA's office. If Renee's reaction to the media's questioning at the latest press conference was any indication she was just as frustrated as I was. I should call her and give her my support, but she'd probably just hang up.  
  
Deservedly so. She was right; this was where it starts. So be it.  
  
I picked up a copy of the incoming log. With the whole staff working exclusively on the two homicides the last three days, there was a backlog. Thank God things would be back to normal in the morning...As normal as they could be around here.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Renee---  
  
"Where is that elevator?"  
  
I mashed the button a few more times just to make sure I had called it. Giving up I collected my belongings and made my way to the stairwell. I looked at the clock hanging on the wall before I grabbed the fire door; eight-ten... I could still get a few more hours of work in.  
  
I precariously balanced my fourth cup of coffee in the last two hours on the stack of files I was carrying. For the last 72 hours coffee was all I lived on. As I began to walk up the stairs, I wished I had those hours back to live over again.  
  
Things would be different.  
  
Finding Garrett Macy in a lip lock with a woman almost half his age was actually the highlight. It went straight down hill from there.  
  
Tom Malden and Patrick Cahill. The murders were obviously related, any first year investigator could see that. The press certainly did. I should know; I spent the better part of the last few days dealing with the vultures.  
  
Why were we hitting walls everywhere in the investigation? I felt the lukewarm wetness of my coffee as it splashed over the top of the styrofoam cup and onto my new white silk blouse. "Great" I muttered. A young legal aide making his way down the stairs in front of me wisely gave me a wide berth. I had a damn building full of people and I couldn't even connect the murders to Kevin Cahill or one of the other crime lords in town. And then there was this James Horton, whoever the hell he is.  
  
Someone was covering the tracks of these murders faster then the police could uncover them. Unfortunately, I had a feeling some of those people were in my very own office. With a deep sigh I pushed open the heavy fire door to my floor. Taking a big gulp of the coffee left in the cup I braced myself for another long night.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Kevin Cahill---  
  
I lit a fresh Havana, and watched the smoke as it rose into the air. I glanced at the clock sitting on the corner of my desk...ten after eight... a fine time to relax. Damage control was going smoother than I thought it would. My contacts in the statehouse assured me that this would all blow over quickly. A week ago everything had been going so perfectly... all according to plan. .If it weren't for that egocentric by-blow of mine not thinking and getting himself shot, things would have been seamless. But then again, there was Malden... that jackass. Why couldn't have he just follow instructions? His job was simple; keep the law busy, make sure his mistress's son was dead and then die himself at the hands of Max Cavanaugh.  
  
Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh was not to be harmed in anyway. My instructions were very clear on that point.  
  
She was so delightfully easy to manipulate...so predicable...just like her old man. I needed her tucked safely away in her downtown office until it was time to use her again.  
  
Malden did complete one of his tasks efficiently. He verified a very useful piece of information.  
  
Detective Woodrow Hoyt.  
  
The kid was green, had ambition and didn't seem to mind 'bending' the rules when it suited him. He could be very useful someday. And if the reports I have heard on his movements the last week were true...he had a definite Achilles' heel. I love it when things were so nice and tidy. Too many players on the field could be too difficult to control. Patrick proved that.  
  
I poured myself a measure of brandy and raised it in salute to Jordan Cavanaugh's good health.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Max---  
  
I waved good night to Eddie as he walked though the thin crowd and out the door. It was only then that I noticed the twenty he had left on the bar. I put the bill in my pocket to give back to him the next time he came in. I told him that his drinks were on me because of all he had done to help Jordan that first night.  
  
That horrible night.  
  
Sweet Mother of Jesus, I felt like I did that September day so many years ago watching them lead her out of her apartment and into the squad car. It was so much like when I watched helplessly as Tom Malden took my baby girl's hand and walked out of her home....I didn't know if I would see her alive again. That same look was in her eyes; pleading for me to tell her this was all a mistake. Say it wasn't so. It was all a bad dream. Make it end Daddy. Then, just as she was being helped into the back seat of the car, there was the awful comprehension....  
  
In just one split second her world had been changed forever...yet again.  
  
I refilled my coffee cup and found a seat. I needed to sit down. The last few days have tapped my strength. Thank God my baby had Woody. He has been her strength. Something she has needed for the last 23 years. Something I never could be to her.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
James---  
  
I sat in a truck stop waiting for my next ride. Hitch hiking was never safe but the alternative was even more dangerous. Getting across the Canadian border was easier than I thought it would be. I patted my pocket to make sure my father's gun was still there. Damn, what a keepsake to remember your father by.  
  
The gun he was going to kill you with.  
  
I carefully pulled out the photo from my coat pocket. The one I had taken from Jordan's apartment. I set it on the table and looked at the young, happy mother and daughter in it. I ran my fingers over their faces. I lingered on the face of the pretty little girl and prayed she was safe and sound.  
  
"Can I get you another cup of coffee." The waitress's voice made me jump. Lately everything made me jump.  
  
"No, thank you" I couldn't help but notice her looking at the picture.  
  
"Your family? She asked. I only nodded and quickly tucked the photo back into my pocket.  
  
Before she could walk away I asked her the time. I had no idea how many time zones I had traveled through in the last 72 hours. My watch was still on Boston time...eight-ten  
  
"About ten after five, honey"  
  
As she went to the next booth I threw a bill on the table. It was time to move on. Stay one step ahead of the pack of hungry animals that I knew were following close on my trail. It was a life that I was use to. Only this time I felt like there was something behind me that wasn't full of darkness.....someone behind me that I would miss. I stepped out into the temperate air thankful for the slight breeze that kept the black flies at bay. Once at the highway I pointed my thumb northwards. I had a long trip ahead of me before I could rest.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Woody and I talked for hours. We both shed a few tears and shared a few laughs. This new found intimacy was not a bad thing. While he was shedding some of his pain I felt some of mine own lift. A little after eight he stood up from the stool and stretched saying his back would never be the same after having slept on the sofa bed for two nights.  
  
He kissed my lips softy and walked out the door. I closed the door quietly behind him. I put my fingers to my lips with a grin. I knew he was waiting in the hallway to hear me throw the new deadbolt.  
  
Suddenly I realized there was this unexpected but welcomed byproduct of knowing he was just outside my door. Home was a safe place. Yes, it may still have the lingering scent of finger print powder and the floor may never be the same...but it was safe.  
  
I leaned against the door and traced a heart with my fingertip on its surface. That big red door, once like the walls of Jericho- 25 feet high 20 feet thick...Never being able to stop the fears of the one who lived behind it. Now was just a plain old door. That big red door, so like the color of my heart. It no longer had its ramparts because they had been taken down not by force, but by lots of persistence, a little music, and....I thought with a smile...a bit of shouting.  
  
"Jordan?" I heard his voice from the hallway.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Lock your door...."  
  
I turned the deadbolt with a decided click. I waited there leaning against the door, listening for the sounds of the elevator doors closing. I jumped when I heard his voice so close to my ear...so close, I could have sworn I felt his breath....  
  
"Good night Jordan.....I love you."  
  
As I heard his footsteps echoing down the hall, I wrapped my arms around my waist and tucked the words easily inside my heart.  
  
"Good night.....farm boy." I whispered.  
  
The End 


End file.
